


Light A Candle

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Gravity [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Continuity What Continuity, Nameless Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, robot gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker would never admit to being a brat at the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Half-Life

**Author's Note:**

> This occurs welll before the Ark leaves Cybertron. Hopefully I wrote clearly enough to follow. I should also state that Sunstreaker is not an entirely reliable narrator. Added note, though the mention is brief in this installment, I don't view them as gendered in the same way we are, so the language I use is different.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, misery really does love company.

"All right, Ratchet. Spit it out," the young Prime said with an exhausted vent of air. The tall mech swayed lightly where he stood, one hand rested on a tent support. He looked down at Ratchet with the clearest, warmest optics Ratchet could ever remember seeing.

Ratchet, caught under them like a misbehaving sparkling, rubbed his hand over his face to block the view.

"You know that doesn't make me disappear. Something is damaging your calm," Optimus Prime said with tired humor.

Ratchet turned to face the clear plasfilm window of this 'office' section. On the other side of the plasfilm, his infirmary full of patients rested. The final survivors of the sacking of Iacon. Just days into his reign, Optimus Prime already looked exhausted. 

The weight of their world could crush.

"I'm rarely calm, Prime. But you're right. I have a problem. Those two. Right there," he murmured, carefully pointing one finger at the gurney of one of the worst injured survivors. Hooked up to a remote monitoring system, the left side of the mostly red mech's body crumpled with horrifying damage. Arm missing, leg crushed. Even his chest plates had buckled. Beneath a tightly woven sheet placed to obscure it, the exposed inner shielding of his spark pulsed softly .

On the ground beside him sat a more lightly injured yellow mech. Even more strikingly beautiful, if possible, and very similar to the red mech on the gurney. The yellow mech had folded up to wrap his arms around his knees. The _emptiness_ of his face disturbed.

"Will he live? And can you save his twin if he doesn't?"

Ratchet snorted and looked up. "Should have known you would see. And your answers are I'm trying and no."

"See? I think you're attributing mysticism where there is none. That's Sellout and Spinout. They are--or were--well-known Iaconi merchants. Rare art and antiquities. Twins, yellow and red as primary colors. I've seen them. Before."

"Then they're lying to someone. Their internals are all pure Kaonite," Ratchet murmured. "And there's battle scarring."

"I beg your pardon?" Optimus Prime looked at him sharply. Suddenly taking the two easy steps from where he leaned on the support to the window, Optimus stared intently at the twins.

The medic gestured through the plasfilm. "Their internals are clearly Kaonite, not Iaconi, and both have scarring that just doesn't happen to prosperous merchants. You have a pair of gladiators in there. That _didn't_ go to Megatron."

"Warriors. If they survive," he said softly. Optimus Prime placed one hand, spread flat, on the plasfilm window.

"I'm doing everything I can. We need real fighters, and they were obviously good...."

"You kept up with gladiatorial fights?" the young Prime asked mildly.

Ratchet glared at him. "No. They're here and not _extinguished_. If we're really looking at a pair good enough to survive and smart enough to get out..."

"We need them. Until more of us shed the manners of civilization."

"I need someone to intervene with that yellow one. Now. He's a wild, wounded animal. I can't handle him if his twin starts to slip, and he loses it before he follows."

Optimus Prime glanced down at Ratchet and back again to the yellow twin. After some interminable time, Prime spoke again, "All right. Someone is coming. I've a promise to get him to recharge on a cot instead of on the ground."

"Thank you," Ratchet murmured. He let a comfortable silence settle between them. He didn't think anyone could move the twin, but the young Prime had proved an astonishingly intelligent mech. So when Prowl slipped inside the main bay, Ratchet cast a sidelong look at the young Prime.

"Don't give me that look," Prime warned. "Prowl can handle a scared, grieving mech. Look how well he dealt with Bluestreak and Jazz."

"I'm not so sure about that. He's cold, Prime."

"No more than I, Ratchet. No more than I."

* * *

Sunstreaker had focused so heavily inward that he did not see the black and white mech stop in front of him.

Split sometime after ignition, he and his brother still entangled one another on the deepest level of their lives. With Sideswipe so gravely injured, Sunstreaker had curled inside his half-spark to find and be with the other half of himself somewhere in the stretch between them. He would not remain alone and half alive.

When the physical light in front of him blinked out, Sunstreaker's optics cycled up automatically, and he looked up. A black and white Praxian crouched slowly in front of him. Sunstreaker stared in shock for a moment; he hadn't known any Praxians still lived. The newscast had said the city had been razed. He wouldn't have guessed that any of their Enforcement Corps would have survived at all.

Looking up at Sideswipe behind Sunstreaker, the mech spoke quietly, "He has not woken yet, has he?"

Sunstreaker slowly shook his head.

"I talked to a scientist that was helping with the wounded today," the mech continued with a punctuating flick of his sensory wings, "You fascinated him. He noticed that you are twins. He tried to explain the theory of quantum entanglement to me."

Sunstreaker's gaze narrowed.

After a moment, the mech continued. "We already know we will lose you if your brother slips away. Ratchet is keeping watch to make sure that does not happen. That machine is not just helping your brother's systems oxygenate and pump, it is feeding his exact vital signs to our chief medic. I will not try to convince you of his skill. I will say that I have watched him come within three percent of stasis lock himself working to bring mechs back from the edge. And the ones he has lost haunt him."

"He'd do that for _us_?"

"He will, if your brother needs him." The mech paused as Sunstreaker hugged his knees tighter. The mech continued quietly, "I know that you are scared. But I promise that here, you are as safe as can be."

"I'm not scared," Sunstreaker hissed. He was _terrified_ , and he would never, ever admit it. "And who are _you_ , anyway?"

"My designation is Prowl. Will you come share some energon with me?" The mech held out a white hand. Sunstreaker looked at it, confused, then at the crouching mech. Sunstreaker's optics drew upward as the sensory wings fluttered again. The pulse of Sideswipe just beyond the illusory boundary was steady, if weak and unresponsive. The image of patience, Prowl didn't so much as twitch in the long, uncomfortable pause before Sunstreaker decided he did Sideswipe no good sitting on the ground and accepted Prowl's offer.

Prowl pulled them both to their pedes. He kept Sunstreaker's hand, using it to gently lead the yellow twin out of the medical tent. The army's camp was quiet. In the aftermath of their loss, no one had the spark for anything. Inside the dispensery tent, Prowl gently guided Sunstreaker to sit down. He stepped away for a moment to get two cubes with Sunstreaker watching him warily.

"I must give you my apologies. We only have low grade available."

Prowl took a good swallow from his. Reassured, Sunstreaker sipped his. Looking over the edge of the cube, he watched the mech across from him. They drank in silence. This Prowl mech clearly had a lot to think about. Sunstreaker did not particularly like to think.

The Praxian's sensory wings flicked again when Sunstreaker had finished. "There is an available cot, if you are tired."

"My brother..."

"I know. You also need fuel and recharge."

Sunstreaker closed his fingers around the corners of the empty cube to dismiss it. Optics settling on the Praxian, he frowned. "I'm not a good roommate."

Prowl looked up from his half empty cube, considering. "I had assumed you possessed excellent reflexes. You and your brother have survived. I promise not to be hurt. Is that acceptable?"

Sunstreaker cycled his optics. That hadn't been what he had meant, but whatever got him left alone, worked. "I... I would appreciate that."

Prowl subspaced his half cube, then stood. His wings flitted behind him. Sunstreaker's optics went to the wiggly things again. The mech held out his hand again. "Come. I will show you to my tent. I still have tasks to complete, but you are welcome to rest."

"Okay." Sunstreaker's hands twisted around each other. Prowl waited, patient as before, through the awkward silence as if it didn't exist. Sunstreaker finally accepted the hand again and stood up. His optics followed the movement of the mech's sensory wings.

"May I ask your designation?"

"I'm..." The names they had been living under sat like bad energon in his mouth. Sellout and Spinout's world no longer existed. Whatever happiness they had in Iacon was dead as the city itself. Sunstreaker paused and glanced back at the medical tent. Prowl, patient as Primus, waited. "I'm Sunstreaker. My twin is Sideswipe."

"Thank you, Sunstreaker. Here. That cot," he said quietly, pointing to the left one through the entry. "I will be back in the morning, if Ratchet does not call me first."

"Prowl?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome, Sunstreaker. Recharge well." Prowl nodded him inside, then slipped into the depths of the refugee camp.

Sunstreaker ducked inside the tent. He glanced between the cot in the small, otherwise empty tent. Carefully, he laid down on the left one. He did not mean to drop into recharge. Reaching inside, however, Sideswipe felt pulsing steadily and gaining in strength. Sunstreaker offlined his optics, shuttering them.

* * *

"How did you know?" Ratchet demanded of the young Prime the next morning. The Prime shuffled up to where the medic worked on the red twin slowly.

"How what? Be specific, Ratchet."

"Prowl and that pretty yellow mech."

"Oohh, _that_ ," Optimus Prime drawled, "Call it a hunch. Prowl is not some sort of terrible monster, you know."

"He's cold."

"If that's true, how did he lure that pretty young thing out to his tent?" Prime chuckled when Ratchet turned an ugly glare at him. "Oh, don't be that way. I think he is a very kind mech. Now, how is Sideswipe?"

"Is that his name?" Ratchet's hands moved gently over the young mech's damaged spark chamber.

"That is what Sunstreaker told Prowl." 

Ratchet decided he didn't like the Prime's smug expression. "Red here probably doesn't know his brother gave their real names."

"I imagine not. Ah, he's waking..?" Optimus asked as the red twin's boot sequence started.

"Right on time, too. He'll be woozy."

"I won't be asking him to dance."

The waking mech gasped in surprise as Prime's low, rich chuckle answered the medic's renewed glare.

* * *

When Sunstreaker's processors came online next, out of sequence, he knew Prowl had not yet returned, but someone unexpected had come into the tent. His audials shifted inside his farings to get an angle on the mech hovering at the entry. From inside, he felt his brother, weak still, but improving. The stranger spoke smoothly, "That's a slick boot sequence, mech. Quick, quiet. No optics, so no light neither. You not mention somethin' t' Prowl?"

Onlining his optics to the lowest range, Sunstreaker saw that the figure had stopped in the entry. The silhouette of a smallish mech stood out against the tent opening. No wing panels, so not another Praxian. Sunstreaker stayed very still on the bunk as the mech moved into the center of the tent warily. Sunstreaker wished he had gotten Prowl's comm address. He rolled up to his pedes, slow and careful. Maybe he had been Spinout too long. "My brother's in your medical tent. Prowl knows that."

"He did mention tha'." The mech watched him as he stood. "I'll show ya how t' get there."

"It's straight down. I can find it," Sunstreaker murmured, walking carefully to the entry. His back crawled. He felt the mech's gaze follow him all the way to the medical tent. He would need a weapon soon. Sideswipe would not be able to defend himself until they could get him repaired.

Inside the medical tent, a red and blue giant that Sunstreaker had briefly seen last night rested his aft on Sideswipe's gurney. His brother spoke quietly to the giant. The medic worked on Sideswipe with a light touch and a sour expression. The giant caught sight of Sunstreaker, touched Sideswipe's shoulder, and pointed the red twin to him. Turning his head, Sideswipe reached his remaining arm out.

"Hey," Sideswipe whispered. Sunstreaker wrapped both of his hands around his brother's. "I feel terrible. Look worse, huh? This's Optimus. He said Ratchet here's gonna fix me. You hurt, too?"

"I'm not bad off, Sideswipe," Sunstreaker eyed both medic and giant before he slid in closer to his brother.

Sideswipe looked up, momentatily puzzled. His weak grip tightened briefly. Slowly, Sideswipe used his real name like he had used his brother's, "Sun?"

The red and blue giant patted Sideswipe's good shoulder, then he straightened. "I'll leave you two with Ratchet. I'll see you again when he's got you feeling better."

Sunstreaker shivered at the sound of that voice. There was power there, and Sunstreaker's insides wanted to melt. He watched the red and blue giant walk away with a frown. He turned to his brother, but brought his attention up to the medic. "What're you asking for in payment? We have no credit now."

"Very true. Not much you two can offer now, is there?" the medic snorted. "I don't care if you can pay me. I don't like watching anyone suffer."

"And the mech in charge?"

The medic, Ratchet, looked up at him thoughtfully. "He might ask you to fight for him. But if he knows what's good for him, he won't tell _me_ I can fix you on _that_ condition."

"Why not?"

"Because if he tries, I will weld his hands to his aft the next time he asks me to fix him. Never, ever upset your medic, young mech. We will exact revenge," Ratchet grumbled. "Okay, Sideswipe, is it? That takes care of your chamber. I want you to rest now. I don't want to overtax your systems."

"You gonna put me under again?" Sideswipe mumbled, casting his working optic on the medic.

"I'd like to, yes. Your self-repair systems only engage fully when your processor functions are at minimum."

Sunstreaker squeezed Sideswipe's hand. Sideswipe studied the medic through his haze of pain and drugs. Then Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe reaching for him. Shifting his balance carefully, Sunstreaker answered that touch with his own. They blended smoothly, settling together as halves to a whole. Distrust colored the combined thoughts of their whole. Distrust and a sense of helplessness. While one half had only sustained minor injuries that the body's self-repair could handle in time, the other half would extinguish without the medic's care.

If half went out, the other would follow.

"All right," Sideswipe managed after the shock of falling apart passed.Sunstreaker caught himself on the gurney and squeezed Sideswipe's hand again before the red twin continued, "You can put me under."

"Officer Ratchet, I was sent-- I see that you are online, Sunstreaker, and your brother is as well," Prowl said from the entry. "All is well then, I trust?"

"Si, this's Prowl. He let me have his cot while he worked," Sunstreaker said. Sideswipe looked up at Sunstreaker, then Prowl, in confusion. Then Sideswipe relaxed as Sunstreaker sent reassurance at him. His twin gave the black and white Praxian a vague nod as Ratchet used a needle on the line attached to the energon feed patched into Sideswipe's primary intake.

"All right, you two, this is a mild sedative. You'll be easy to rouse if we have to, Sideswipe, but you'll stay out until it wears off, otherwise," Ratchet said. "So no, nothing that'll leave you more vulnerable than you already are."

"Okay. Can Sun stay?"

Ratchet frowned at Sideswipe, "He'll be bored and in my way. We're in the heart of camp. You'll be safe enough here. The revolt's army took some heavy losses for this win. Reports have them pulling out. And that's what we're going to do, soon."

Prowl's sensory wings rustled for attention. "Yes. We will be moving away from Iacon as soon as temporary mobility or transport can be arranged. Medical evacuees do have priority, and we already planned to make sure you both went with the same group."

"I'd like to stay with Sideswipe," Sunstreaker murmured, returning his brother's loosening grip. Sideswipe optics cycled off and shuttered. Across the bridge between their half sparks, the echo of Sideswipe's life slowed.

"I understand, Sunstreaker. Will you come with me, though?" Prowl asked quietly. "As you are highly mobile, I wish to have you known as a guest sooner rather than later. Jazz is safe enough coming on you in our tent, but others, about camp, may be faster to react than think."

Sunstreaker frowned at Prowl. The Praxian's impassive expression would have angered him, if the mech's sensory wings were not wiggling in agitation. Sunstreaker waited just long enough for the wings' speed to pick up. Something bothered him about the movement. Finally, he vented slowly. "Fine. I'll come. I want to be back here before he comes to again, though."

"Officer Ratchet?"

"Bring Sunstreaker back in six hours. That'll be plenty of time for him to be in my way. Now get out." Ratchet made shooing motions before turning to the next patient.

Prowl rested a light hand on his forearm. "If you will follow me?"

"Yeah. I'm coming," Sunstreaker muttered. It took him a bit longer to actually release Sideswipe's hand. He could still feel the weakness created by his brother's injuries. Sunstreaker didn't want to leave him. He released his grip and followed Prowl out with his ugliest sullen expression in place.

Prowl did not actually take the time to give Sunstreaker's designation and explain Sideswipe to more than a handful of mechs. Mostly, since Sunstreaker followed him, he helped Prowl move goods about the camp. A task which earned the smaller mech a frightful glare from Sunstreaker that appeared to have no effect at all past an odd double-skip of those flaring wing-like sensory panels.

Many of the mechs gave him second and third looks, but Sunstreaker counted that as normal enough. He and his twin had always turned heads. All the mechs in camp wearing the Army's markings appeared to know Prowl, although none addressed him by a rank. None asked about Sunstreaker's presence, either, if Prowl didn't stop to explain. And after spotting Prowl with him, any hostility faded from tired faces.

Prowl was _trusted_ , if not liked, apparently.

In four hours, Prowl took them to the dispensery tent again. He let Sunstreaker fill his own cube, then gestured Sunstreaker to follow him back to his tent. The roommate, 'Jazz', wasn't in evidence. Prowl gestured for Sunstreaker to sit on the same cot he had recharged on.

"What's your position here?" Sunstreaker asked.

"I beg your pardon? Oh. I am...not sure?" Prowl's sensory wings did that funny double-skip. "I am an oddity. Here, do you play Quadrant?"

"I know the rules..."

"That will do. I am...good." Prowl brought an old folding travel board from his subspace. Sunstreaker couldn't recall seeing the game off some sort of screen before this. He watched Prowl set the game up carefully. "You can have first move."

"You said you were an oddity," Sunstreaker prompted the black and white mech.

"Well. You see that I am Praxian?"

Sunstreaker looked up from the board.

"We were not known for emigrating. I still lived and worked there. I was...out of town. I worked as a juris adjunct, and I had traveled to Iacon on business. I was returning that morning. There was a terrible traffic jam on the road. I remember hearing the seekers," Prowl said in careful, even tones.

Sunstreaker took his hand away from the board to listen.

"Praxus thought its Neutral status would protect it. I did not really see it fall. I was too far away, and everyone had begun to flee down the intercity transit. I never really did make it home. I was found by a search and rescue team from Iacon. I joined them to help one of the other survivors the rebels had left in the city; a youngling. A whole city. Neutral. Civilians. Sparklings. A youngling left alone for hours in a city of the dead. An entire city extinguished because they would not bow to Megatron." Prowl looked at his own hands, but Sunstreaker didn't think he saw them. Prowl's voice faded as remembered horrors passed behind his optics.

Sunstreaker's own hands twitched. He had been no fan of the Prime government or the Council. He and Sideswipe had been victims of its excess in Kaon before escaping. But Sunstreaker had wished no one not directly responsible for their pain extinguished. Certainly not a city that had withdrawn as the revolt began, declaring itself neutral.

"This camp is what is left of the Cybertronian army. What is left that is loyal to the Prime, at least," Prowl finished after shaking himself back to the present. "Prime has...taken stock of my assets, skills, and motivation. I do not have _rank_ , because the rescue teams and handful of survivors arrived only in time for Iacon to fall. Prime has not had time to give rank."

"The Prime is dead," Sunstreaker whispered.

"Then long live the Prime," Prowl hissed, sensory wings flaring high and forward. Sunstreaker flinched before he could stop himself, and he heard Prowl's wings snap down abruptly. Prowl's uncanny calm returned as suddenly as it vanished. "Optimus Prime's reign began only seven days ago. Right now, everything is in flux. Most...most of Iacon, like Praxus, is in ruins, and its populace extinguished. The only truly ranking army officer surviving, that we are aware of, is Commander Ironhide, who lead the rescue team to Praxus. Prime focuses now on bringing as many survivors together as he can before he organizes beyond this."

Sunstreaker looked at the board. Gingerly, he picked up a worn drone piece to free his left general. Prowl cycled his optics then visibly joined the game he had asked to play. Sunstreaker did not try to break the silence that fell. If he wouldn't call it companionable, it was not uncomfortable. As the game progressed, Sunstreaker realized Prowl had understated his skill at the game. Within an hour, Prowl had backed him into a corner, and then he took Sunstreaker's prime piece.

"You were a city functionary?" Sunstreaker asked after another minute trying to figure out how he had lost.

"Yes. But that is...not the task I was designed and programmed for," Prowl said after a moment. Sunstreaker watched the white hands carefully put the pieces away. Prowl's sensory wings twitched downward before resuming their position. "I am flawed. I was not considered...sympathetic enough for enforcement."

"You don't seem that way to me," Sunstreaker replied hesitantly. 

"The youngling Bluestreak feels I do well with him as well." Sunstreaker's optics drifted to the Praxian's wings again, watching them twitch downward slowly, twice. Humor. Sunstreaker cycled his optics. It was a laugh, though a sad one. "My design includes an advanced tactical system and logic center. I have offered that to the new Prime. I was intended for crowd control."

"Oh." Long used to ferreting out the motivations of those around him, Sunstreaker had identified a few tells on the mech already. A crowd in high gear would flatly ignore Prowl. Or worse, they would be antagonized.

"You understand how I did not meet their requirements, then?" At Sunstreaker's slow nod, Prowl continued, "My flaw may be an asset now. It has been with Bluestreak, with Jazz, and now with you."

"That uncanny calm," Sunstreaker said quietly.

"Interesting. Jazz identified it the same way. I think it is time for me to take you back to the medical tent, Sunstreaker." Prowl subspaced the game and stood.

Sunstreaker looked up at him and thought carefully. Sunstreaker was often given to rash actions and impulsive decisions. Sideswipe thought and planned carefully. Still, Sunstreaker knew Prowl was not sharing this information lightly. Despite the flaw his designers had rejected the mech on, it was clear he _did_ feel. The hate had even broken past whatever was wrong inside him.

"Sunstreaker?"

"Somebody recognized us."

"Yes. Prime recognized you as Iaconi merchants, Spinout and Sellout, but the medic realized you were not native to Iacon from your internal structure. He also noticed the scarring."

"And you want to use us."

"They took from you as well. I propose a trade of talents to reach an end goal," Prowl said carefully. 

"The medical tent is straight down. I remember." Sunstreaker stood up. Prowl sensory wings fluttered. Prowl reached forward, but the motion stopped. Sunstreaker looked at the mech, considering. "I need to think, Prowl. I need to talk to Sideswipe."

The wings stilled for a moment, then lifted, just a little. "Yes. It is straight down."

Sunstreaker left the tent under Prowl's intense, watchful gaze.


	2. Jeopardy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in the shadow, there is a place for light.

"Oh! Hello, Prowl," Optimus Prime said as he looked up from a collection of reports open across an enlarged datapad. "How is Sunstreaker? Sideswipe?"

"Sunstreaker seemed well. Sideswipe was lucid when he awoke seven hours ago. Sunstreaker assisted me while he was resting further. Sunstreaker has now gone to be with his twin. He is displeased that we know their past," Prowl said evenly.

"I imagine that he is. You've kept him awake the whole morning, though? We are marching out today."

"I do not believe a day's march will harm Sunstreaker. In spite of his injuries, he is a very strong mech," Prowl continued with a tiny flutter of his wings in their high angle. Optimus watched the pair of tattling panels carefully before speaking.

Optimus wondered again who had caused that rage in Prowl's spark. It made him sad that he would never be able to heal it; Prowl hated him nearly as much as the mech hated Megatron.

Perhaps that shiny yellow mech would do instead. Prowl certainly seemed to like him more than anyone but the mechling Bluestreak. Well, perhaps Optimus would use that against the mech. And hope.

"All right. Would you do me a favor, then?" Optimus asked with an absent-minded air, "Get Bluestreak and put him on the transport with Sideswipe. He's a very upbeat sort of fellow. I think he can keep Bluestreak entertained for a day. And then you and Jazz can travel next to the transport with Sunstreaker. I don't want Ratchet getting upset with me."

"I understand. I will see it done. Will that be all, sir?" Prowl's wing-shaped sensory panels twitched upward. Annoyance.

 _Ah, well_ , Optimus thought. _He would have made a good friend._ "Yes, that's all I needed. Thank you, Prowl."

* * *

Once Sunstreaker walked inside the medical tent, Ratchet and his team had apparently gotten most of the wounded to walking status; only Sideswipe still rested on a gurney.

Ratchet looked up at Sunstreaker with a frown, but the medic gestured the yellow twin closer. "He'll be coming around shortly. How are _you_ holding up? If you'll take a seat here, I have time to tackle some of your injuries after him."

"Sideswipe?" Sunstreaker demanded as he obeyed the medic's command to sit on a stool in front of his brother.

"They've scrounged functional temporaries for me to use on him. I'm going to be a couple of days building real replacements, though. I'm sorry."

"Sun?" Sideswipe's voice whispered thickly behind him. Ignoring the medic briefly, Sunstreaker turned around to catch Sideswipe's good hand.

"Hey," Sunstreaker replied softly. "Medic says he can get you walking."

"You won't be able to transform, but you'll be able to board a transport under your own power. I figure that's better than nothing. Real 'to spec' replacements will take me a couple of days. I'm told we're breaking camp today." Ratchet tugged an old fashioned push cart closer with the temporaries sitting on them. Coated with actual grey paint rather than the silvery nanopaint designed to adopt a Cybertronian's native color and bluntly made with no plating or armor, they looked barbaric. Sideswipe made a face. Ratchet smirked. "Would you rather stay on the gurney and be pushed around?"

"No."

"Then, sadly, you take what we have, and be grateful we have it at all." Ratchet began to work on attaching the temporaries quickly, and paused to double check his connections before letting Sideswipe make a test motion. "Now, I did a lot of the internal work you needed while you were out. You feel better than the last time you came around?"

"Yeah, though my head's muddled."

"It will be for a bit. Now, when I'm done, remember that you can't transform. These things won't hold up. And don't strain them. It's just for a few days. Then I'll have some shiny new ones for you, tailor made." Ratchet patted Sideswipe's good arm, then finished the temporaries' connections. "Try the arm again? Just a little harder. All right. Now try the leg."

"We have to come with you?" Sunstreaker asked, finally breaking in.

Ratchet glanced at Sunstreaker as he wiped the temporaries of imagined debris. "Well. You both can stay if you want, but there's nothing here anymore."

"We're not soldiers," Sideswipe mumbled, confused.

"So I've noticed," Ratchet said dryly. The medic turned his attention to Sunstreaker's arm, pulling it across the cart's top so he could work.

"You told them we had been gladiators," Sunstreaker rumbled menacingly. Sideswipe looked up, cycled his optics, and tried to catch up to the source of his brother's anger.

"Yeah, I told Prime because...because if you survived _that_ and _this_ , maybe you're both good enough to keep coming back. You didn't fall into Megatron's revolt. Something made you think it wasn't for you. So yes, I told Prime because I'm hoping you'll help _us_ stay alive," Ratchet snapped back at him. Despite the scathing anger of the medic's tone, his touch on Sunstreaker remained light. Soothing. "If he didn't know, he wouldn't try to talk to you. Surely that rusted Prowl explained _something_ to you."

Sunstreaker hissed, "Why should _we_ slave again for what's left of the government that left us to rust?"

"That," a resonant voice behind him said, "is an excellent question. May I ask one in return?"

Sunstreaker barely cut the reflex string his surprise called up in time to spare the medic's olfactory. As it was, Sunstreaker jerked out of Ratchet's grip. Just as the last time he had heard the red and blue giant speak, his processor tried to lock up, and Sunstreaker had to quell a shiver. The medic snarled and recaptured Sunstreaker's arm to continue repairing it. "You gonna answer mine?"

"Yes. But I want you to understand my reasoning first. And to clarify, Ratchet will finish both your repairs whatever answer you give me," the Prime said. "If I don't let him, Ratchet has promised to weld my hands to my aft, then give me to Ironhide and his mate."

Sunstreaker frowned. He decided to ignore the joke. "Then why should we?"

"Why didn't you join Megatron?"

Sunstreaker fidgeted under the Prime's bright optics. Beside him, Sideswipe stirred uneasily. "We'd talked about it..."

"...then Praxus," Sunstreaker finished.

"We saw the writing on the wall," Sideswipe added.

"You let the darkness take hold, and it'll consume you," Sunstreaker muttered.

"It's not like we aren't angry. We are," Sideswipe clarified.

"But there's mechs that've done, and mechs that haven't," Sunstreaker finished. 

"I wonder if Megatron still remembers that," the Prime said softly. "I hope he does. I would like to think he can come back from that darkness. I wonder, though, if blame will see us all dead before he can. Here is your answer, Sunstreaker: you owe _me_ nothing, but you owe _yourself_ a place to build again. I am not asking you to follow me or belong to me. Only to work _with_ me."

Hesitantly, Sunstreaker reached through his spark for his brother. Sideswipe reached back. Fury and pain so like his own exploded across it. And _hope_. A desperate hope. The fury and pain echoing across the bond tried to resolve into an image. Sideswipe's good hand gripped Sunstreaker's arm tightly. "Si?"

Sometimes it was harder to share imaginings, as if those existed solely in the limited space their half-lives could call unique. Sunstreaker shifted uneasily, glanced at the Prime and Ratchet, then opened himself further.

Sideswipe did not dive in, as Sunstreaker half expected, but focused his own end. The image of Sunstreaker sitting in what had been his work room came through. Sideswipe's cluttered office desk with its view of his shop floor. The feeling of quiet joy, of painless health.

The lives they had made for themselves.

Sunstreaker broke away and shook his head. Sideswipe's hand released him, and Sunstreaker growled at his brother. "You buy that load of slag?"

"You don't have to discuss it right now, you know," the giant said, puzzlement coloring that rich voice. "Right now, Ratchet is trying to work. You're tired, and it's-- Well, it's been a battle. Please stay with us long enough to be repaired? When we re-camp tonight, we'll have a tent for you two to share. Then you can talk. Privately."

"Fine!" Sunstreaker snapped at his brother's kicked turbopuppy look. Of the medic, he asked, "Can he walk now?"

"Yes, he can. Carefully. Prime, when is de-camp starting?" Ratchet paused his repairs to Sunstreaker's torn cables to look up at the Prime. The medic went back to stringing the new cable. Out of the edge his vision, Ratchet still watched Sunstreaker's brother experimentally move the arm and leg.

"Within an hour, actually. You said you'd have the last patient semi-mobile that could manage it about now. I presume you meant Sideswipe here?" Amusement tinged the voice now, and Sunstreaker held himself very, very still.

"Yeah, Sideswipe can board a transport. Sunstreaker is able to transform, but he won't be comfortable."

"I don't have to be comfortable. But I don't want to be far from Sideswipe," Sunstreaker broke in. They didn't have to talk as if he and his brother weren't there.

"I had hoped you would travel near the transport with Prowl. Bluestreak is still too young to transform," Prime said carefully. "I did think you would prefer to be as near your brother as could be safely arranged."

"Good," Sunstreaker grumbled.

"My brother's an aft," Sideswipe muttered. "Please forgive him."

"Given the circumstances, I take no offense," Prime replied with a low chuckle that went straight up Sunstreaker's back struts again.

Sunstreaker would never get used to that _voice_.

"Now, I only came to make sure Ratchet had everyone mobile. Prowl will help you get the last mechs on the transport, my good medic. Then we'll form up and head out. Jazz returned. He says they're still soldering their wounds, but I don't want to wait," Prime finished.

"All right, then," Ratchet said as he tested the cables' tension. Patting the arm, Ratchet continued, "Try flexing that? Good? Then can you help your brother to his pedes?"

"Yeah." Sunstreaker waited for Ratchet to reset his plating, then he stood up. His brother swung an arm over his shoulder, and together they got Sideswipe's patchworked body off the gurney. On his pedes, Sideswipe swayed, but he kept his grip on Sunstreaker as he adjusted for the temporary fittings.

Prowl appeared behind Prime, silent and impassive. Ratchet bristled. Behind the stiff Prowl stood a shorter Praxian with sensory wings even more fluttery than Prowl's. That had to be the youngling, Bluestreak.

The youngling mumbled softly to himself and held one of Prowl's wings tightly. Ratchet's cool attention visibly warmed for the youngling as his attention moved off Prowl. Sunstreaker opened his mouth before anyone else could. "That the kid, Prowl? The Prime here said you were gonna put him with Sideswipe on the transport."

The youngling in question looked disturbed and frightened. Sideswipe tensed against him as he saw the two Praxians. Prowl had told Sunstreaker nothing that both twins hadn't known about Praxus itself. Sideswipe echoed Sunstreaker's upset through the entanglement of their sparks. What Sideswipe said was, "Oh, shiny. Someone to play penta with. You know Iaconi Quick rules? Or you can teach me the ones you know?"

"I-I kn-know P-praxian r-rules," the youngling stuttered.

"Bluestreak," Prowl said in a tone so devoid of anything, Sunstreaker looked at him sharply. His wings had crept high and tightly forward, like they had done during the mech's angry outburst before. Sunstreaker could almost pity the mechs that had destroyed Praxus. A terrible fury lived in that mech. "Will you help Sunstreaker and Sideswipe? They lived here, before."

"Oh," the youngling said. He looked up at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker with wide optics. Hesitantly, he let go of Prowl's wing and sidled close enough to slip under Sideswipe's good arm. "M-my home is g-gone, t-too. I-I l-like games. A-and st-stories. C-can you t-tell st-stories? I-I w-went t-to a st-storyt-teller, once--"

Sunstreaker, not being good with mechs let alone sparklings, ignored the youngling. He sympathized. 'Alone for hours in a city of the dead,' had Prowl said? Yes, Sunstreaker sympathized. The grey husks of sparkless frames, frames that had belonged to friends or family, lying in mute accusation. Sunstreaker had a multitude of disturbing memories of his own. He understood.

That did not grant Sunstreaker more patience with others' trauma.

Sideswipe, on the other hand, loved entertaining mechs, and he had been good with the few sparklings they had come across.

"The transport is down toward the eastern edge of camp," Prowl said as he obeyed Ratchet's silent directions regarding the newly empty gurneys and medical supplies. Sunstreaker guided his brother and the youngling out of the medical tent. The Prime quirked a funny smile and followed them. The unfriendly stare Sunstreaker turned on him actually got a low chuckle from the giant. The mech did, however, finally take a different turn as the trio made slow progress.

By the time Ratchet and Prowl showed up with the supplies, the rest of the battle's more injured survivors began to file into the transport. While the elder Praxian and the medic got everything in order, Sunstreaker watched Sideswipe enertain the younger Praxian. Sideswipe had always picked up and moved on easily.

Both of them had had to.

Prowl lightly touched Sunstreaker's arm for his attention, then led the yellow twin off the transport. Outside, Sunstreaker listened to shouted orders and subdued conversation. As the transport lurched forward, Prowl transformed, and Sunstreaker unhappily folded up himself.

A different black and white mech joined them as the convoy began to move out slowly. The sneaky roommate, Jazz. Sunstreaker stayed silently to one side of Prowl and listened to Prowl and Jazz talk quietly while the line drove through the ravaged streets. As always during long, silent times when Sunstreaker couldn't apply either of his best talents, he started to think.

Sunstreaker did not particularly _like_ to think.

He was not inclined to planning. Sometimes he thought that it was the main reason he stayed with Sideswipe. It gave him someone to think about tomorrow that had his best interest in mind. Other times, he acknowledged that he really loved his idiot brother. By the time the refugee army had reached the first stopping point, Sunstreaker had reached several decisions.

First, he would never, ever bow to another mech again. Sunstreaker would die first.

Second, his idiot brother would sign up. Sideswipe had always wanted to belong.

Third, Sunstreaker wanted to live. Even before the sacking of Iacon, cities had been falling, one by one, steadily leaving only two options for long-term survival.

Fourth, Sunstreaker liked neither option. Both options had destroyed his life at different times, but one had managed to win his brother back.

Fifth, Jazz was one scary mech, and so was Prowl. Prowl didn't like the Prime, but Jazz felt even more strongly. Jazz had been a slave--like Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, once.

Sixth, if this Prime failed Jazz, Sunstreaker's problem would be solved. Jazz would kill the mech, if the Prime did not make good on his promises.

In the shadow of the collapsed building where they stopped to rest, Jazz and Prowl transformed back to root mode. Groaning, Sunstreaker returned to root mode himself. His damaged leg sent honest pain signals up his circuitry, and the new arm cables had racked up a terrible cramp.

Like the wounded soldiers, Sunstreaker worked the aching joints and cables until movement didn't make him want to flinch, however much it hurt. The march had only paused. It would start again. The civilian survivors had collapsed in place.

Sunstreaker frowned at his leg as it decided that it would accept his full weight without limping. Venting, he looked up, and his gaze landed on Prowl. The mech's sensory wings had fallen to hang down his back. The white face was tilted up, catching light off the transport. The chevron glowed, and his optics were shuttered. Nearly lost in the shadow behind him, Jazz looked intently at the road under his pedes. He had one hand raised up in a gesture Prowl wouldn't see. Sunstreaker cycled his optics and frowned to himself.

A shout echoed down the line. The civilians complained, Sunstreaker shifted his weight back to his better leg, vented, then transformed after the black and white mechs he was following. The itch to create fought with the old, nearly quieted desire to kill. Sunstreaker ignored the building tension in his processor. Sunstreaker or Spinout? Had he ever really been anyone but himself?

Sunstreaker did not particularly like to _think_.

Finally at the night's camp, Sunstreaker wobbled dangerously on his pedes when he got to them again. Prowl caught his elbow, waited patiently until Sunstreaker steadied, and ignored the glare he got in return. Prowl spoke into his audial to be heard over the noise of the setup, "Prime has called for a brief meeting of, well, he says 'his delegation'. My designation is on his list. Will you mind Bluestreak until I find you?"

"He likes to talk. And he's not good at it," Sunstreaker muttered uncharitably. Then he shrugged. "But he'll keep Sideswipe distracted. My brother loves to entertain."

Prowl's wings did that little double skip again. Sunstreaker smiled weakly when Prowl answered, "Thank you."

"Sure." Sunstreaker watched Jazz and Prowl leave. The transport's ramp lowered, and Ratchet waved him up, silencing the guards' protests. Sunstreaker stopped as he got to the top and looked at the recharging youngling and his also recharging brother.

"Where's Prowl?" the medic asked.

"Your Prime called a meeting. Prowl asked me to watch the kid until he found us."

"Huh. Well, don't touch Bluestreak to rouse him. Just call him. You three can come to the medical tent, with me. I think I can get _you_ fully functional, before I fall out," Ratchet said thoughtfully. "At the very least, I can take care of that hitch in your leg."

"That'd be acceptable, medic," Sunstreaker drawled. At the medic's glare, Sunstreaker chuckled and limped off toward his brother and Prowl's little friend. A simple tug on Sideswipe's spark had his brother booting up slowly. As he neared the pair, he tried the medic's advice, first, "Bluestreak? Can you wake up?

By contrast, Bluestreak jerked fully online, flailing.

Sunstreaker pulled his brother away down the bench from Bluestreak, until sense returned to the kid's wild optics. He and Sideswipe had seen more than one new slave in the arena pens react this way. Sideswipe blinked his optical shutters, and he allowed Sunstreaker's calm to soothe him. Processor settling fully online just as slowly as Bluestreak had come online fast, Sideswipe stretched his good arm and leg and leaned against Sunstreaker.

"You up now, Bluestreak?" Sunstreaker asked quietly.

Bluestreak ventilated harshly. "Ye-yeah. I'm-m s-sorry."

"You're fine," Sideswipe murmured. Sunstreaker helped him to his pedes, and Bluestreak scrambled to his own and got under Sideswipe's opposite shoulder. "Hey, thanks. Hope the medic gets my parts done soon."

"Prowl got called to a meeting, Bluestreak. Want to come with us to the medical tent to wait for him?" Sunstreaker said, as gently as he could manage. "The medic said he wanted to work on my leg."

"Ok-kay. I-I hope y-you're f-fixed. B-being hurt-t is-s b-bad. I-I d-don't-t like t-to b-be hurt-t. S-so R-Ratchet-t said he c-could fix your leg--" Sunstreaker tuned Bluestreak out once again and let Sideswipe handle the kid. Just as in the slave pens, Sideswipe dealt with the others very well.

Sunstreaker did not deal with anyone well.

Ratchet claimed Sunstreaker as soon as Sideswipe was settled with Bluestreak around a trio of heavy-duty cargo boxes, playing a game. Ratchet gave Sideswipe a fresh-drawn medical grade energon cube. Bluestreak said he and Prowl would get camp stock later.

The medic pushed Sunstreaker lightly unto a gurney, sat himself on a rolling stool, then proceeded to numb Sunstreaker's leg for work. As before, the medic's touch remained soft and gentle. Sunstreaker's processor wanted to drift off, but simple, old paranoia returned from the same period of his life as Sunstreaker's earlier instinct to work through his pain kept his attention focused on Ratchet.

"I can see Bluestreak frustrates you. Why did you agree to watch him?" the medic asked after he had Sunstreaker's dermal plating lifted aside.

"He's a scared kid. Not his fault he annoys the slag out of me," Sunstreaker muttered, watching Ratchet's hands. 

"Ah. Very understanding of you," Ratchet said in a sarcastic tone.

"I'm not a nice mech. It's not like you are, either."

"I beg your pardon--"

"Your _handling_ is professional enough. But your mouth is no friendlier than mine." Sunstreaker shrugged. "Sideswipe likes to make friends. He can entertain the kid."

"You have made your point," Ratchet said with a vent of frustration. They fell into silence while the medic worked correcting the bent alignment and damaged structure that was hurting him. Paranoia made his entire sensory network crawl. Maybe he had not been Spinout long enough.

Prowl quietly entered the tent. Ratchet bent an ugly look in his direction and pointed the mech to a seat. Prowl walked slowly and sat with exaggerated caution. Sunstreaker eyed him, then stretched carefully around his sore joints and deadened leg. "I'm tired. Sideswipe's fallin' out again. Not to mention the kid. They promised we'd have a tent."

"Ah. There is a tent. I must apologize, however. It seems that Jazz and I are sharing it with you. Bluestreak has been sharing Commander Ironhide and his mate's tent," Prowl said softly, gaze sliding to the youngling leaning heavily on his brother. His sensory wings twitched.

With an optic on Prowl's wings, Sunstreaker asked, "Did you want him with you?"

"Ironhide and Chromia have been creators. None of their creations have made contact yet," Prowl answered carefully. "They keep me close to Bluestreak, because I am a familiar frame type. It is not felt that I am the best choice for his caretaker, however."

Sunstreaker's gaze shifted to the fluttery wings. They kept uneasily moving from a hard low to an aggressive high. Cycling his optics, Sunstreaker thought about whether or not he cared.

Someone should, for the kid's sake.

After a pause, Sunstreaker said, "Well, if your goal's to have Prime let you crush the revolt, best if the kid's not in the line of fire, right? He's safer with caretakers that don't have to split their attention between an army _and_ a target _and_ him."

Prowl's head jerked up, and the high flaring of his wings echoed the faint glare on his face. Sunstreaker rather thought Prowl hadn't liked his wordly wisdom. The yellow mech smirked. "I'm right, and you know it. You're _angry_. Angry mechs get lost fast because they don't let go. You really want him healthy, you'll let the hate go."

"Never!" the mech hissed. His wings snapped to a high, rigid angle.

"Then quit feeling insulted they gave his care to someone else," Sunstreaker hissed back.

"Why should I listen to _you_?"

"Because _I'm_ what happens when caretakers got other things on their processors. You want him to be like me?"

Ratchet had gone absolutely still watching the quietly savage exchange. He looked up at Sunstreaker, bright optics dimmed in thought.

"You already know where we've been. _You_ and your _Prime_ asked us to go there again. Do you wanna drag _him_ there with you?" Sunstreaker demanded of Prowl. Then he nudged the medic's shoulder. "I want to recharge."

"You're a bossy mech," Ratchet muttered.

"I care. Finish."

Prowl's wings flicked up and out to down and in then quivered in the middle before repeating the dance. Sunstreaker watched, tired as he hadn't been for nearly two hundred years. Perhaps he might have felt some pity for Prowl, except the youngling did deserve the consideration.

When the wings stopped, they tipped midway to down and pulled in against his body. Sunstreaker tilted his head, and considered the pose. Resignation, he decided. Good.

Prowl stood without another word to Sunstreaker, and shuffled slowly toward Sideswipe and Bluestreak. Ratchet drew his attention back with a soft touch to his arm. "That's the first time I've seen him show...anything."

Sunstreaker frowned at the medic. "Then you're not looking hard enough. He's glitched shut. Not voided out."

Ratchet scowled at his language, but his glance after Prowl was thoughtful. Then he turned back to business. "Let me close you up, and then I want you to stretch. Gently. If the leg agrees, you can go to your shared tent after that."

Sunstreaker made a face, then vented as the medic closed him up. He obeyed the command to stretch the leg gently and got to his pedes cautiously. It held his weight without twinges, and Sunstreaker relaxed. "And you can get Sideswipe repaired when?"

"Give me two days. I have...materials. Just have to get it to match his good arm and leg. I'll have the leg first. Figured that would make him happier."

"It will. Thanks." Sunstreaker nodded to the medic and headed for the trio that included his brother. Sideswipe looked up with a grin and dragged Sunstreaker closer with his good arm. "Sun! Help me up. Prowl said there's a cot with my name on it. Hey, see ya tomorrow, Bluestreak."

"Your tent set up in the same place, Prowl?" Sunstreaker asked as he slid under Sideswipe's arm and hauled his brother to his pedes.

"I'll s-see y-you, S-sid-des-swipe," Bluestreak said. He wedged himself under Prowl's arm and wing, snuggling like the youngling he was. "Th-they alw-ways p-put P-prowl's on th-the m-main p-path."

"Okay. Thank you," Sunstreaker said after Prowl nodded. He and his brother limped out and headed straight down the main path. Jazz standing at the flap talking to a largish red mech made the tent easy to find.

Jazz looked up as they approached and moved aside. To the mech he had been talking to, "An' there's Prowl's latest strays. Kids, this's Ironhide."

Sunstreaker frowned at Jazz, but Sideswipe waved the temporary arm at both mechs. "Evenin'. We were told that cots had been left with you for us? I'm really worn out."

"You rode in the transport," Sunstreaker muttered.

"And entertained that kid. He's cute, but he's a test of patience."

The large red mech, Ironhide, chuckled, "Bluestreak's a good 'un, but 'e can be a bit tryin'. So, th' party's over, and Prowl's takin' Bluestreak t' m' tent?"

"Think he's going to the dispensary first. Bluestreak said he was hungry," Sideswipe answered Ironhide's question as Sunstreaker got Sideswipe inside and down on one of the left side cots. There were no personal possessions strewn about. If mechs still had any, they were not taking them out for overnight camping.

"Ah, youth," Jazz chuckled. "You guys want cubes tonight? Well, Sunstreaker. 'Magine Ratchet's got Sideswipe on medical grade, huh?"

"I'm fine," Sunstreaker said carefully. Exhaustion dragged at Sunstreaker, but it had been disturbingly easy to find and implement the old subroutines to deal with low energy levels. He would be 'fine' for two more days, marching the whole day for both. Until he could be certain of the energon he was getting, Sunstreaker wanted none. He would rather starve. They couldn't take any more of the stuff they were fed in the pens. They had both agreed to go out, if one of them ever got that final dose.

"Ratchet fed me, yeah. That's why I figured Prowl was heading Bluestreak for his own meal," Sideswipe said. Sunstreaker grabbed a second cot and pulled it in front of Sideswipe's before setting himself down.

Jazz nodded, but Ironhide cycled his optics. "Y' sure y' don't wanna have a cube, Sunstreaker? Been a hard march, an' y're hurt."

Jazz shook his head, interrupting them both, "He says he's fine. I'm tired. Go fetch Bluestreak before Chromia tries to murder Prowl. I need his cortex, mech, more than your mate needs to beat him."

Ironhide vented slowly. "Chromia's not _that_ bad. Th' streak 'as perks, anyway."

"Now what kinda perk can Chromia's temper have?" Jazz demanded with a laugh.

"Great make up 'facin'. Like y' wouldn' believe," Ironhide replied, straight faced.

"Too much information, mech."

"Y'sure? We like company. Ratchet's offered Prime, y'know. If 'e screws up." Ironhide had a grin Unicron would be proud of.

Jazz shoved the mech along, snickering. "Go. Chromia's supposed t' head out with thv advance squad. Not kill my pet processor."

Sunstreaker listened to them distantly and watched his brother hitch awkwardly into place, then he sat on the next cot, leaning against a support. Sideswipe flopped against Sunstreaker and shuttered his optics. The red twin vented softly. Sunstreaker stroked his brother's audial horns and shuttered his own optics. But while he felt Sideswipe slip into recharge through his spark, Sunstreaker stayed awake, quieting and suspending systems to simulate recharge.

Jazz had moved to his own after Ironhide left, but Sunstreaker heard him still awake. After a minute or two passed, "That trick's as slick's that boot sequence. Just what kinda mechs _are_ you two?"

Sunstreaker onlined his optics to meet Jazz's gaze warily. Jazz chuckled. "Call it professional courtesy. Prowl made sure y' two heard my life story. I'm only askin' for some return stories."

"We were merchants in Iacon. Or he was. I worked for him," Sunstreaker said quietly.

"And before Iacon?" Jazz asked.

Sunstreaker vented. "Prowl didn't tell you? Or the Prime or that blasted medic?"

"Well. I got guesses, but no one's _said_. Were you slaves like me?"

"Not _like_ you, but yes. Gladiators. From Kaon," Sunstreaker muttered unhappily, holding Sideswipe's recharging frame closer.

Jazz watched him thoughtfully. "Slavery is slavery. I'd been a soldier, an' they took that from me. You'd'a been--jus' kids, I'd think--an' they took that from you."

"We're alive."

"So we all are. And with a Prime to threaten if he fails us."

"Think you can?" Sunstreaker asked softly.

"I know I can. I'm not th' idealistic young mech that swore t' the Senate. Optimus Prime fails me, he will die," Jazz replied. The smile below his visor seemed entirely too pleased.

"Sideswipe wants to believe him."

"An' you don't. Well, you don't have to." Jazz shrugged. The tent flap opened to let Prowl inside midway through Jazz's comment. His sensory wings fluttered. Jazz chuckled. "The recharging twin wants in. The waking twin does not."

"If Sideswipe does enlist, he will be jeopardizing Sunstreaker as well," Prowl replied quietly. The Praxian walked to the last empty cot. "They are twins."

"We're all 'jeopardized'. Half a Cybertron's in ruins. Th' other half'll be in ruins soon enough. Scholars use' t'talked 'bout what th' final war would be like, but we're living it. Or dying of it." Jazz snorted and flopped back on his cot.

"Agreed," Prowl said. "But even I do not know that I would wish to remain loyal to the Prime and Council government, myself."

"Yeah. True enough." Jazz waved a hand vaguely. "I know I won't unless Optimus keeps his word. But we're re-hashin' metaphorical old ground. It's time t' recharge. We got more _real_ ground t' cover tomorrow."

Prowl's wings flicked, and the mech glanced at Sunstreaker. The yellow twin shrugged. "Sideswipe won't mind watching Bluestreak again. Keeps him from having to think too hard."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help," Prowl said softly. "Good recharge, Sunstreaker."

"You're welcome, Prowl. Rest easy yourself."

Prowl moved to the last empty cot as Sunstreaker shuttered his optics and returned to his simulated rest.


	3. Ghost In The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope is a dangerous thing.

"Finally. I'd wondered if I'd have to track you down. The pretty twin doesn't like you."

"I noticed. He's a big meanie head."

Ratchet laughed at the young Prime and pushed the replacement leg he worked on away. "His brother does..."

"Yes, Sideswipe is more interested in outside affairs. Sunstreaker holds their self-interest closer. I think, however, that Prowl has his attention."

"Prowl again." Ratchet grumbled.

"Yes. Prowl again."

"Are you sure it was a kindness to... Well, to either of them?"

"You still think Prowl is cold?"

"Yes."

The young Prime vented sadly. "Prowl is...damaged. By Praxus. By its fall. He can mend, Ratchet. Given support and time. Seeing that he has no one to offer that support, I found a patch. Maybe it will hold, maybe I'll need to find a new one later. You know, _you_ asked me to do something about Sunstreaker."

"Don't remind me," Ratchet muttered. Then slowly, "If they _were_ Kaonite slaves, I'm going to need in their heads. To fix their processors. See if they're damaged."

"You mean from that nanovirus the Kaonite nobles were using? To sell their gladiators like pleasure drones. What was it called? Afterglow? Name a vile thing for the pleasant aftermath of honest interface. Nobles."

"You know the strangest things, for a-- What were you? Before you were Prime." Ratchet vented and rubbed his face. He began to put his tools away. He was exhausted.

"I was no one important. Or so I thought. It doesn't matter now. Clearly, I was entirely too smart. You can make them trust you. I think it wouldn't take much. Once you're inside their firewalls, do your best to clean them up. That's the least I owe them." Optimus Prime sat down across from him, just as tired.

"It wasn't your doing, Optimus. None of this was."

"But," the Prime said softly, "I have inherited the mistakes of our world. It's my task to correct them. Primus give me the strength and the wisdom."

* * *

By the end of the second day, Sunstreaker had not found the opportunity to refuel, but Ratchet did finish Sideswipe's replacements. Sideswipe had casually handed Sunstreaker what Ratchet said would be the last cube of medical grade, ostensibly to hold, and Sunstreaker pocketed the cube in his subspace just as casually.

Sunstreaker would make it to the tent. Thirteen percent of his reserves remained. The march had been harder on him than he had expected. His systems weren't used to running dry anymore, and it showed in the numbers coming back from his light diagnostic.

Sideswipe had brought the old dry run routines up as well, and his reserve tank was topped off. That would let Sunstreaker hold for a little while.

Still, Sunstreaker was so tired that he didn't notice when Ratchet finished installing the replacements on his brother. The medic turned to frown at him.

"What have you been _doing_ to yourself? Open your access," Ratchet grumbled, prodding Sunstreaker.

"No."

"Sunstreaker--"

"I'm fixed. You don't need in my head."

Ratchet lifted his optics to meet Sunstreaker's gaze. Whatever scathing retort had been about to come, the medic swallowed irritably. Quietly, Ratchet said, "Please let me do my job, Sunstreaker. I know you think I'm mean. It's how I cope. I can't stand _not_ helping. I can't abide suffering. Any suffering. Please open your access."

Sunstreaker scowled down at Ratchet. The medic held his ground. Finally, Sunstreaker looked away and sat on one of Ratchet's stools. The medic vented. As Sunstreaker's hardline access slid open, Ratchet stepped forward and brought his hand up slowly. Intelligently, Ratchet kept it in view as long as possible. The stiff hardline plug peeked from its recess in Ratchet's palm. Sunstreaker flinched as it connected. Ratchet made a soothing noise. 

The medic slipped past the native firewall, at Sunstreaker's admission, to skim Sunstreaker's diagnostic records and make the medical scans he needed.

After a tense three minutes, Ratchet muttered, "Shouldn't do so many self-edits. You can seriously frag yourself doing that. Let me in so I can clean things up for you? And then I'll give you another couple of medical grade cubes. That should top you off."

"You don't need in."

"I just explained that I _do_ need it. I _need_ to make you feel better. I know you don't trust me," Ratchet murmured, "but I won't hurt you."

Sunstreaker scowled up at the medic, tacitly ignoring the medic's hand to his head and his presence just inside the native firewall. Sunstreaker didn't feel like rewarding the medic, even for his kindness in verbally addressing his questions.

Now the medic hovered just outside the massive inner firewalls until Sunstreaker finally lowered the defenses to let the medic inside them. Sideswipe had insisted they get the strongest firewalls, as soon as he had the credits to afford them.

Sunstreaker hadn't had the spark to point out those firewalls wouldn't save them from what they truly feared.

Ratchet slipped in with a light touch and went through Sunstreaker's coding slowly and carefully. Each correction increased Sunstreaker's anxiety, even as his systems reported positive feedback from the medic's changes. After a while, the medic unplugged himself and lowered his hand.

"Your head's cleaner than I expected. That's good. Now, those cubes, I promised."

"Why are you being nice to me? Sideswipe's already decided he wants in on this stupid death wish, and I decided I don't." Sunstreaker grabbed Ratchet's arm and looked up at the medic. Sideswipe began to fidget.

Ratchet stopped to look down at Sunstreaker. He frowned, optics lifting to look into the distance. Finally, "Because you're letting me. I need the comfort of someone I _can_ help. Take advantage of it. I'm not usually a warm spark."

The medic tugged his hand loose and walked away for a moment to retrieve a pair of cubes from the medical dispensary. Sunstreaker watched Ratchet bring them over and hesitantly took both from him to subspace with the first one. "If dining in the main dispensary bothers you so much, you can take Prowl. You trust him, right? A little, anyway?"

Sunstreaker scowled at the medic. He trusted the Praxian because the mech had a pair of giant tells on his back. Prowl would never be able to lie to Sunstreaker. What was stranger to Sunstreaker was _that_ mech liked _Sunstreaker_ a great deal already. At least, it had been strange at first. Prowl was, as Sunstreaker's first tour of camp had suggested, respected, but he was not liked.

Apparently, Prime and Jazz were the only other mechs to _see_ past Prowl's glitch.

Prime, being Prime, didn't have the time to spend with the grieving mech. Jazz, being Jazz, simply didn't care as long as Prowl could make good his promises. Sunstreaker remembered being cold and alone in the dark, but for the warmth of Sideswipe's half of their shared spark.

Prowl had come to Sunstreaker when Sideswipe couldn't respond to him.

Whoever Prowl might have had before, he was dead with Praxus now. So Sunstreaker would return the favor and not leave Prowl alone in the dark. Sideswipe didn't like Prowl, but even his brother wouldn't leave the mech there. Sideswipe wasn't cruel.

To Ratchet, Sunstreaker vented, "Yeah. He's all right. I won't... I won't run so low again. Okay?"

"That'll do. Go on. Find your tent and drink up. And get a full recharge cycle in, please. Prowl and Jazz are not going to kill you while you're recharging."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exchanged looks, but neither corrected the medic. They had come to the conclusion that, while they disagreed about _liking_ Prowl, they agreed that he was trustworthy. They also fully agreed that the oh-so-likeable Jazz was not to be trusted.

Jazz, both twins firmly believed, had done most of his killing in the dark while the victim recharged alone.

"Whatever," Sunstreaker said as he got to his pedes and helped Sideswipe to his own. Sideswipe rocked on his pedes to find his balance, then set off slowly toward the tent flap.

[ Why _do_ you like Prowl? ] his brother asked in a closed comm.

[ Because he was nice to me when I didn't know if we'd make it. Everyone else was too rusted _busy_. ]

[ We're not the only ones that got hurt. ]

[ But I don't care about them. ]

Sideswipe's ventilation stalled on a snort, and the red twin choked out a laugh. Sideswipe happily threw himself into walking as they got outside. Like any other new wiring, Sideswipe had to get used to it. Sunstreaker watched him bounce and jog off ahead with a faint smile.

"It is nice to see that expression somewhere. All is well with your twin, then?" Prowl's voice called from behind him.

Sunstreaker looked back to find the Praxian himself coming up along a side path. His smile broadened, just a little for the mech. "Yep. He's all fixed up. Ratchet's kind of an easy spark, isn't he?"

"Despite his concerted efforts to appear otherwise, yes. He is very caring." Prowl's sensory wings fluttered up, then down in what Sunstreaker had pegged as irritation.

Figuring out _how_ the mech inside the computer communicated was the tricky part of dealing with Prowl.

"He didn't see you in there, you know." Sunstreaker watched the fluttery sensor wings snap upright. "Why are _you_ surprised? I didn't know any glitched mechs could manage anything. I'd always heard the stress from the conflict killed them within a century or so."

Mouth open to speak, Prowl froze, but for those unhappy wings. They twitched rapidly from position to position.

"You had wanted to, huh? Rather than live like this? And the programming won't let you." Sunstreaker watched the wings go still then slowly drop. "Well, he sees you now. Jazz and that stupid Prime see you, too. Even if they've left you."

"You...see..." Prowl finally managed to whisper. 

"Well, those wings keep flicking," Sunstreaker said quietly, surprised the _mech_ could speak at all. "They don't always agree with what comes out of your mouth."

Sensory wings lifted again, flicking wildly. Prowl's mouth worked, and nothing came out. Sunstreaker shifted uncomfortably while the mech struggled to speak. Sunstreaker reached out, hesitated, and shut the mech's mouth for him. "Easy. Don't fry yourself. I'm going to be here a while. Sideswipe's planning on joining this army. Take your time to get it out."

"Will you play Quadrant with me again later?" Prowl got out hoarsely.

"Sure. Whenever you have time." That didn't seem like a request to stumble so hard on; Sunstreaker wondered what the mech had really wanted to say. Sunstreaker looked to Sideswipe as he felt amusement coloring Sideswipe's end of their halved spark. Sunstreaker decided to ignore him.

"Thank you," the Praxian said carefully.

Sunstreaker smiled weakly, then he walked after his teetering brother.

"Just tell me you're not _interested_ in a mech for the first time _ever_."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"That's my brother. So, help me back to our tent. Wanna eat." Sideswipe grinned at Sunstreaker as his yellow brother shoved him along down the main road of the camp. "They said one more day's march, right? I'm not sure I could do days of marching with new parts."

"Prowl said so this morning. Think he and Jazz are forming the top tier of command now that most everything is blown to slag," Sunstreaker said.

"How...how much is left?"

"Vos turned like Kaon. Altihex fell. Protohex, too. There's small cities left, but the consensus is they won't last. We're looking at the end."

"Oh," Sideswipe said weakly. "I'm..."

"Yeah, I know. You can. I'll stay with you, but I'm not swearing to anything. That tailpipe grime _owes_ us." Sunstreaker helped Sideswipe into the empty tent and sat him on a bunk before taking two of the cubes out.

"Thanks," Sideswipe murmured. He drank silently for a time, then fidgeted. "Sun..."

"No. I mean it. I won't. I didn't want any fighting. I just wanted... I just wanted to create," Sunstreaker finished softly. "I never wanted to kill. I don't want to think like that again."

"All right," Sideswipe said. "You don't have to. I am, though. If it's all goin' to slag, anyway, I wanna die fighting for somethin'. It's not like I'm not good at it."

"Be risking me, too, smart aft."

"So are you, me, if you hide in a rusted corner!"

"Lover's spat?" Jazz called from the tent flap.

"He's my _brother_!" they spat at him in unison.

Jazz bent double laughing himself nearly sick.

"I'm _so_ glad you find this funny," Sunstreaker hissed.

"It's not funny. It's fraggin' hysterical, mech." Jazz beamed down at them and sauntered to his cot. "Look, Sideswipe, your brother don't join up, that's not as big a problem as you're thinkin'. Prime says he won't expect your brother t' follow orders, righ'? Just help out. Now, _I_ might ask you t' follow _Prowl's_ orders. He's th' brilliant tactician. Praxus wasted him."

"Maybe. Trust him more than anyone else here," Sunstreaker muttered.

"What about your brother?"

"What about me?" Sideswipe asked Jazz, puzzled.

"Don' he trust you?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exchanged looks again. Very carefully, Sunstreaker said, "I can't not trust him."

'Ah." Jazz said, sliding his gaze between them.

Sunstreaker scowled. Sideswipe laughed. "We're all we ever had. Earliest thing we remember is each other."

Sunstreaker concentrated on drinking his first cube. If they were honest, the earliest thing they remembered wasn't 'each other' but 'them'. Sunstreaker remembered, as Sideswipe did, a sense of being stretched between bodies and attention, of being one. He remembered how the split became broader, deeper. How they became so nearly two.

A normal mech wouldn't understand much of anything they could say about it, really.

Sideswipe chatted with Jazz cautiously. Sunstreaker was looking forward to his first recharge cycle since the end of the world had begun. His goofy brother ought to be able to cover watch half the night.

Prowl stepped inside silently before too much longer. He glanced at Sunstreaker, but he went to his cot silently. Sunstreaker scowled at him. "I thought you wanted to play Quadrant?"

The mech's sensory wings ticked upward loosely. "I did not wish to impose."

"Set up the board." Sunstreaker ignored his brother's sidelong look and Jazz's thoughtful one. Pushing himself to his pedes, he sauntered as far as Prowl's cot and dropped on the end nearest him. He noted Prowl's wings fluttering around that mid-high angle Sunstreaker loosely decided meant content as the mech set up his old folding travel game between them.

Sunstreaker lost in ten moves and sat scowling at the board. He held his temper in careful reign. It had to be the mech's last possession. Something special and full of memories. Sunstreaker wondered who had played with Prowl so often to leave the claw marks on the pieces. Sunstreaker wondered if the other player's loss directly caused Prowl's hate.

"Play again?" he asked and dismissed the cube he had emptied. Prowl's sensory wings skipped twice, then rested mid-high again.

"Please?"

Gingerly, Sunstreaker reached for the old pieces and helped Prowl set up the game. Behind him, Sideswipe had passed out across their cots. Jazz had settled on his own to quietly watch.

Sunstreaker lost in eight this time. Without asking, he calmly set up the board again and listened to those sensory wings flick. The third game ended in eleven moves for Prowl's victory again. Sunstreaker made a face at him, and the mech smiled. Sunstreaker cycled his optics, but the expression faded too quickly to be certain of it. The yellow twin smiled back anyway.

Prowl's wings twitched, and he stilled Sunstreaker's hand with his own before Sunstreaker could try to set the board again. "It is late. You should recharge. Thank you for indulging me."

"You're welcome." Sunstreaker shifted on Prowl's cot and took out the second cube.

"I see Ratchet grew concerned. I am glad. You were looking rather tired." Prowl moved slowly putting away the game pieces.

"He's a bully," Sunstreaker muttered. "Yelled at me about my edits."

"I have noticed a liking for intimidation as well. I believe he hopes that his admonishments will be a deterrent. I would suggest that it means he is concerned for your welfare." Pieces stowed, Prowl subspaced the game again and looked up at him. "It is not a bad thing."

"It's not wanted. I'll make decisions as I wanna make them."

"It is not a bad thing," Prowl repeated softly. "You have Sideswipe who worries for you, does he not?"

"Not exactly. We're not going to outlive each other. And he's the fool that wants to join the army," Sunstreaker vented and sloshed his half drained cube thoughtfully.

"There will be little choice soon. Megatron does not accept others' choices. I still wish to trade talents for a common goal. You wish the freedom of choices, correct?"

"And what's it that _you_ want?"

"I wish for the death of those that destroyed Praxus."

Sunstreaker looked down into the soft purple of the medical grade energon Ratchet had given him. Sunstreaker did _not_ particularly like to think. Carefully, he said, "You want death."

Prowl watched him, clearly trying to decide what Sunstreaker meant by the tangential. Finally, Prowl replied, "He has murdered."

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily. "He's not _wrong_."

"It is no longer about right and wrong, Sunstreaker. He is destroying our world a piece at a time."

Sunstreaker kicked at the leg of Prowl's cot. "Is that a bad thing?"

Jazz stirred behind them. If Sunstreaker could not see Jazz's optics behind his visor, he could feel them. Prowl tensed, and his wings flicked madly while the mech wrestled with his answer. Slowly, Prowl's computer worked the answer past the mech's own fury. "Many of these mechs were innocent. Many were as much victims of the system as you or I. And they did not follow his message, either. He has lost sight of his own goal."

"The end's coming. There aren't enough forces to stop him from taking down the last cities. What's the point now? You didn't want to survive your creation. Why would you want to fight now?"

Prowl went shock-still but for his wildly shifting sensory wings. Sunstreaker would have betted that if he could plot and trace their movement, he would be able to have a conversation right around Prowl's much unloved AI.

He was probably calling Sunstreaker a raging tailpipe right now, though.

"Don't fry yourself," he reminded the Praxian quietly. "I'm not leaving my brother."

"I...not...alone..." Prowl whispered.

No sound at all came from Jazz's corner of the tent. Only the rasp of Sideswipe's recharging ventilation disturbed the silence Prowl's bare admission left.

"I know. No one saw you past the computer. Except whoever left the claw marks on your game pieces, huh?" Sunstreaker said finally as he figured out what Prowl meant. He eyed Prowl's wings as they swept back and forth. "I'm here, I guess, now. But I don't want to fight. I've been through enough."

The wings twisted wildly again, and Sunstreaker waited patiently. "For... _them_..."

"What do _I_ owe _them_?"

"You...world...this?"

Sunstreaker tapped his pede against Prowl's cot, parsing together what Prowl meant "No. I don't want the world like this. But what's to stop it? In the turn of things."

" _Us_ ," the mech hissed. Bicolored wings arced high behind his back.

"And after? Can't think the first Cybertronians ever thought _this_ would happen."

"Have... _now_."

"There is that," Sunstreaker said softly. He tapped the edge of the mostly empty cube he held to watch the ripples form, reflect, and interact across the surface. He continued slowly, "I won't serve another mech ever again. I won't serve your ideas or your goals or your rusted _wishes_.

"But I have to live somewhere. I have to take in fuel. I have to recharge. So it's _here_ or _there_. Isn't it? I don't like either, but my underclocked brother does. And without Sideswipe, I have no life at all."

With his wings ticking up and down slowly, Prowl sat rigidly nervous. Then his sensory wings lowered slowly. The mech managed to speak carefully. "Will you help _me_?"

Sunstreaker looked up at Prowl as he turned the thought over in his processor slowly. "I'll help _Sideswipe_. I'll _listen_ to you. You, at least, can't lie to me."

"Thank you. I think." That fleeting smile came and went once more, but Sunstreaker was sure of it this time. Sunstreaker smiled faintly back then drained the rest of his cube. Dismissing the cube, Sunstreaker stood up and glanced at his twin. Prowl hesitated behind him, wings flicking for attention, "You can recharge safely. I will wake you if anything changes."

Sunstreaker looked at Prowl for a long time thoughtfully. "Night, then."

Shoving Sideswipe aside after a light brush of warning across the illusory separation between them, Sunstreaker settled against his brother and drifted into an uneasy rest.

* * *

"I saw, from your report, that you cleaned up the twins' processors. You've grown rather attached to them in a very short time, haven't you? Don't forget everyone else, now." The young Prime slumped across Ratchet's makeshift desk, head resting on his folded arms. 

"I'm not about to forget my duty," Ratchet said testily. 

"Good. Chromia made it earlier today, by the way. Ironhide was relieved."

"And Wheeljack?"

"Right behind Chromia. Wheeljack is an excellent driver, I'm told."

"He is," Ratchet said quietly. "He is. Prime?"

"Yes, Ratchet?"

"Do we have a chance?"

"That depends on the goal."

"Winning."

"None, Ratchet. If we try, we will die. I have been over the odds with Prowl again and again. _But_..."

"But?"

"We can survive. As long as we survive, there is a chance for peace."

"I should start praying to Primus, shouldn't I?"

"Meanie head."

"Prime!"

Optimus chuckled. Then, more thoughtfully continued, "I think I'll give the pretty twin to Prowl."

"Prime! He's not--"

"Oh, stuff it. That's not what I meant at all. He doesn't like me. Certainly he doesn't want _my_ authority over him, but I am the last civilian authority. So, I'll give him to Prowl. He likes Prowl."

" _Prowl?_ " Ratchet demanded with a nasty glare.

"Ooh, stop. Prowl will take care of him better than I ever will."

"You know," Ratchet said thoughtfully, " _You're_ the meanie head."

* * *

The next day's march proved to be somewhat shorter than advertised, although Sideswipe whined enough the whole way there to seriously frag Sunstreaker's tenuous grasp on patience. Several heavily armed mechs, some with F.E.M. modifications, greeted them. A blue one very nearly dragged Ironhide off his pedes and into the depths of what was now, apparently, home.

Sunstreaker decided that one _had_ to be the Chromia that Ironhide kept talking about. He did look intimidating enough to be Ironhide's mate. A soft pink mech bounced up to the tips of his pedes to kiss Optimus's cheek plate. The Prime made a face, but he bent to hug the shorter mech. The others kept lookout while the bulk of refugees waited for their turn to take the hidden bulk lift down.

Hiding in a hole in the ground. Just how Sunstreaker wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Prowl twitched beside him while Sideswipe played nine-square with Bluestreak using the debris around them. Sunstreaker looked up at the stars glimmering past the dim lights. The constellations struck a familiar cord, but Sunstreaker could not call up the exact source of his unease.

Sideswipe and Bluestreak gave up their game when Prowl nudged Sunstreaker toward the lift. The mech's sensory wings did their funny double skip when Sunstreaker glared down at him. When the lift stopped, a red F.E.M. modified mech flagged Prowl down to tell him that Prime had called a meeting. Sideswipe slung an arm over Bluestreak's shoulders and promised to teach the youngling Iaconi Quick rules for penta.

Prowl politely thanked Sideswipe, nodded to Sunstreaker, then disappeared after the red mech. Watching his brother and the stuttering youngling with the crowd milling around them and nothing, _nothing_ , visibly going on, Sunstreaker's temper quietly got away from him.

Sideswipe put a hand on Bluestreak's arm to keep him distracted. Sunstreaker's brother quietly told a long, funny story about one of their old suppliers. Who, Sunstreaker thought morosely to himself, was probably a grey shell now. Scowling at the floor, he didn't notice that a large, officious orange mech worked through the crowd until he approached them.

"Designation," the mech growled, reaching for Sunstreaker's arm with one hand. He had a datapad in the other.

"I have one," Sunstreaker snarled back as he sidestepped. Off to his left, Sideswipe tugged the suddenly whimpering Bluestreak out of Sunstreaker's view.

"How _dare_ you--!" The orange mech took two steps toward Sunstreaker.

"You're the tailpipe came barkin' at me," Sunstreaker hissed. "You _really_ wanna take a step back."

At the end of the world, a normal mech might expect flaring tempers and harsh words. A normal mech might try to hold his temper.

The orange mech raised his hands to shove Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker lost whatever grasp on control he had. Sunstreaker dropped into a crouch and spun into a low kick that took the mech's pedes out from underneath him. Orange's datapad caught air.

Sunstreaker was tired. He was dirty. He had been bullied by a medic and a glitch. His brother was being an aft. He had been listening to a sparkling stumble through the simplest conversation for over an hour _just standing_ in the middle of a packed crowd.

Someone was going down, and now Sunstreaker had a volunteer.

Flowing out of his crouch to his own pedes, Sunstreaker kicked again at the downed mech's torso. The percussive crunching of armor triggered a sudden rush of noncombatants away from the fight. Orange whined, flailed, and tried to snatch at Sunstreaker's leg as the yellow twin danced back out of reach.

Orange finally rolled up to his pedes, then he charged Sunstreaker.

Old subroutines, driven to the point of instinct, twisted Sunstreaker to one side just before the mech's shoulder connected. Snatching Orange's wrist, Sunstreaker let the mech's momentum carry his body past, twisting Orange's arm behind his own back.

Sunstreaker slipped his pede under Orange's pede again, sending Orange face-first to the floor. Sunstreaker swung his free leg over the mech's back as they fell. Straddling the mech after they crashed, Sunstreaker grabbed Orange's audial horns with his free hand and started slamming that ugly face into the ground.

"'Alt! Rust yer aft, 'alt!"

The command was so entirely like Sunstreaker's combat instructor in the pens that he froze.

"Sunstreaker," the voice continued more conversationally, "there a _reason_ Prowl let ya off leash?"

Sunstreaker looked up, meeting Ironhide glare for glare.

"I don't _belong_ to Prowl," he spat. Orange struggled under him. Sunstreaker banged the mech's olfactory into the floor again. "And Prowl is with _your_ rusted Prime, so _we_ were watching Bluestreak."

"An' y' felt y' needed t' slag an army officer 'cause y're lonely?"

"He's the tailpipe grime that got in my face."

"Not to, y'know, defend my crazy brother, but he tried to put his hands on Sun first, and he kept comin'," Sideswipe interjected. Orange blustered under Sunstreaker. The yellow twin growled a warning.

Ironhide vented. "Everyone, shuddup! Sunstreaker, let'm up. Y' three're comin' with me. An' _you_ , forgo'cher name... Y' can go explain t' Ratchet why 'e's gotta fix you."

"But he--" Orange gargled.

"--ain't y'r concern now. An' Arcee's comin' t' finish y'r job. Sunstreaker. Let 'im up," Ironhide said. Sunstreaker growled, but he let Orange go and stood up. He wasn't sure if the terrible damage he had left made him sick or elated. Ironhide gestured for Sunstreaker to follow, "Sunstreaker. C'mon."

Sunstreaker glared at Ironhide to hide his confusion.

Ironhide tugged Bluestreak after him. Sideswipe trotted behind them both easily enough. Sunstreaker glanced at the lift and debated leaving. Sideswipe didn't _need_ him. And it wasn't like they could truly be parted. His brother paused and, looking back, sent a little tug across the invisible bridge between them.

Sunstreaker vented and followed the train of mechs off.

Deeper in, Ironhide took them down another lift, then pointed them to a rail car. Sunstreaker eyed Ironhide. "You're not taking us all to a jail cell just to shove _me_ in, are you?"

"Prowl says y've refused t' join ranks, an' there ain't no more civilian authority ou'side a Prime. An' Prime says ya don' like 'im, so Prime suggested lettin' Prowl deal with ya. Y' _do_ seem ta like 'im well enough."

" _Excuse_ me?" Sunstreaker snapped.

"Ha! Prowl said almos' th' same thin'. Y're Prowl's problem. Ah'm jus' takin' ya t' where 'e's at." Ironhide smirked and pointed Sunstreaker to a seat. Grumbling and glaring, Sunstreaker climbed in after Bluestreak and Sideswipe took seats.

He disliked Ironhide already.

When the rail slowed and stopped again, he followed everyone out, grousing the whole way. Ironhide ignored him and led the way deeper into what was obviously a bigger complex than he had guessed.

That really did not reassure Sunstreaker about the state of Cybertron.

Ironhide led them deeper inside the fort. Toward the command center, Sunstreaker guessed. They had arrived at the barracks, then. And that told Sunstreaker where he was, and why the arrangement of stars had been uneasily familiar. He only knew of one military base this large. Three days out from the Cybertronian capital.

He wondered if Sideswipe had realized they were back in Kaon.

"They know they can't stay here, right? This is like suicide," Sunstreaker demanded of Ironhide.

"Sun--" Sideswipe hissed.

"Oh, Prime knows that," Ironhide interrupted. "Prowl's put together a plan tha' Prime's put an approval stamp on a wha' ta do 'bout it. Y' jus' relax."

"Fine." Sunstreaker's dermal plating crawled. He had never, ever wanted to see this city again.

By the time Ironhide found Prowl, Sunstreaker's intake tank roiled with the need to purge. Sideswipe kept glancing back, obviously confused about his upset. Bluestreak had begun to chatter again, making up for Sunstreaker's sullen silence.

So much for Sideswipe's theory that he was the smarter twin.

Tucked into a room with too many monitors covering all available surfaces and a small horde of mechs armed with plasfilms, Prowl cycled his optics at Ironhide's intrusion.

"Aigh', Prowl. 'E busted up th' fellow 'Lita left sortin' folks. Apparen'ly, there was a disagreemen' 'bout touchin' 'is majesty. So, 'e's all y'r problem, as Prime ordered. Primus save ya. Sideswipe, Blue?" Ironhide tucked the youngling under his arm and gestured Sideswipe to follow.

"I beg your pardon, General? What am _I_ to do with him?" Prowl asked, sensory wings twitching.

"Y' said 'e wan'ed t' remain a Neutral, righ'? An' 'e won' be answerin' t' Prime, righ'?"

"Yes, but I fail to see--" Prowl began.

"I'm right slagging here--" Sunstreaker growled.

Ironhide raised his voice over both of them, "So Prime said tha' since 'e obviously likes _you_ , 'e's unner y'r authority. Sideswipe, c'mon. Prowl'll bring 'im t' y'r quarters later."

The red twin glanced uneasily between them, until Sunstreaker shoved Sideswipe along. Prowl was safe enough. Mech was constitutionally incapable of lying. Even now, Prowl's sensory wings flicked in and out uneasily as Ironhide disappeared with the red twin and the young Praxian in tow.

"I do not understand," Prowl said carefully.

"I think they're saying that you're deciding my punishment for breaking one of your mechs." Sunstreaker traced the line of a tile with the tip of his pede.

"Why did you injure someone?" Prowl looked up at him, lowering the large plasfilm in his hands to the table in front of him. The other mechs in the room murmured quietly, but no one else was brave enough to meet Sunstreaker's optics.

"He was a jerk."

"Sunstreaker, that is not an acceptable reason for assault."

"I think that's why they're leavin' me with you."

Prowl stood silently for a moment. "Chief Medical Officer Ratchet is still going through the supplies left by the deserting army regulars. Help him haul and organize."

Sunstreaker scowled at him. "I'm tired and dirty. And that'll be boring and exhausting."

"Perhaps you would like to help the crew cleaning the lavatory system?" Bicolored sensory wings flicked twice as Sunstreaker's glare hardened.

"I don't know how to find anything here."

"I understand the lavatory cleaning crew can be found with your olfactory one level down and five corridors over to the east. Medical Officer Ratchet is one floor up and two corridors down to the south. Turn west. Your choice." Prowl turned his attention back to his work.

Sunstreaker growled and stalked out the door.


	4. Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random encounters never go according to plan.

With absent minded security, Optimus Prime thumbed the control that opened his temporary office door after the soft chime. He smiled tiredly at the pair entering. "Ah. Jazz, Prowl. Oh, right. Commanders."

"Don't gotta be so formal," Jazz said before he flopped into one of the guest chairs. "So now that y've got things organized, we're movin', yeah?"

"That is the plan. There are, as we've discussed in the strategy meetings, only two good locations..." Optimus tapped his fingers on his desk and looked at his blank wall without seeing it. "I would prefer you stay together and explore both during next week's planned strike."

"Sir, one of us should be present--"

"Prowl, I need the optics and audials of both of you there. As my newly assigned second and third in command, I can't always afford to keep you near my giant target of an aft. Sometimes, I just need you to focus on the welfare of my refugees. Now, you can slip out as the main force does." Optimus said, watching Prowl carefully. "Keep this quiet. Everyone can assume you are with us somewhere. I have hopes for the Tyger Pax location. As ruined as the city is, it may be that we can hide better."

"Sir. We will inspect both it and the Altihex location carefully," Prowl muttered. A real, honest-to-Primus mutter. With twitching sensory wings. Optimus cycled his optics. 

Jazz snorted with laughter. "Relax, Prowl. I'm sure a pair a fast mechs like us can be back in time for a little game with Sunstreaker."

"Have I...missed something?" Optimus asked mildly.

"Prowl has play time scheduled with Sunstreaker," Jazz snickered.

"We are not sparklings, Commander Jazz."

"No. But all ya gonna do is play Quadrant." Jazz's positively unholy grin still unnerved Optimus.

"As it happens, we planned to play penta, Commander Jazz. And I do not like to be late." Prowl's wings fluttered high and wide in annoyance.

Optimus Prime smiled to himself. "If you're late, I will formally apologize to Sunstreaker. All right. Dismissed, mechs."

Jazz got back to his pedes and followed Prowl out. To tease the mech, Optimus was sure. Honestly, Optimus was relieved Sunstreaker was playing games with Prowl again.

The Praxian had been _depressed_ when Sunstreaker had first begun to sulk over his punishment. Optimus Prime decided, not for the first time, that Sunstreaker would have made a lovely trophy mate for some well connected merchant, once upon a time.

* * *

One week after his punishment for slagging that officer was up, Sunstreaker had forgiven Prowl enough to accept the mech's invitations to play again. Three months later, Sunstreaker was thinking about giving him the total silent treatment. Sunstreaker would never, ever admit to being a brat at the end of the world.

Sunstreaker folded his arms and glared down at his brother across the tiny barracks room they were forced to share. "You're not going anywhere without me."

"You can't come without a weapon," Sideswipe insisted.

"Is there a problem I am unaware of? Prowl suggested I ask Sideswipe to volunteer. Sideswipe lived in Iacon, and Prowl could spare only one mech. He did not suggest I would be allowed to take both of you." The red mech standing just this side of their closed door had a cannon on his shoulder, but he looked about as useful in a fight as a broken screwdriver.

Sunstreaker was unsurprised to feel a stir of lust from his brother. Sideswipe always had liked smart mechs and flight builds. If they ever met a seeker with credentials, Sunstreaker would bet his farings his brother would try to dry hump the mech's leg.

"I'm not part of your ridiculous army so Prowl ain't counting me in his numbers," Sunstreaker growled.

"Oh. My. But you've been working... I don't understand."

"Don't worry, Perceptor. Sun's an idiot."

"I beg your pardon?" Perceptor asked faintly.

"You are not going _anywhere_ without me, Si." Sunstreaker loomed over his brother.

"I _have_ been going without you for weeks now."

"Ah, not to interrupt, but Wheeljack and I are not without use in a fight. Truthfully, we also expect no trouble. I see no harm in taking your brother. Oh, my," Perceptor added faintly when both twins turned to glare savagely at him.

"I'm going. Deal, Sideswipe. Mech says there'll be no trouble, anyway."

Sideswipe vented. "Fine. I volunteer. And we're taking my unarmed brother. We prolly _don't_ wanna tell Prowl that."

Sunstreaker relaxed. He hadn't minded when Sideswipe had gone out with the whole of the army he had joined, but he minded this solitary trip very much. Perceptor and Wheeljack were hostage material. Sideswipe was cannon fodder. Sunstreaker would not die for a pair of dimwitted scientists. Sideswipe had been good, very good, by himself.

Sunstreaker had been better.

The scientists waited four more days until the bulk of the army had rolled out for an attack on something. The scientists swore that the maneuver would cover their own movements. Sunstreaker still thought this whole thing a bad idea.

He hadn't asked Prowl nor had Prowl volunteered to talk about 'work' during their games.

Prowl _loved_ games. Sunstreaker did not think he would ever beat the mech.

Early in the morning, just after the main body of mechs rolled out, Sunstreaker scowled down at Perceptor's planned route on the mech's datapad. With their stated goal of reaching four research laboratories inside the Iacon Academy Major Sciences building, Sunstreaker had assumed both Wheeljack and Perceptor had known Iacon well. Both proved to be fine examples of Sunstreaker's personal theory that the more educated the mech, the more of a dumb aft that he was.

Sideswipe, peeking over his twin's shoulder, said it more politely. "Ain't that the long way?"

"I beg your pardon?" Perceptor asked and looked up. He cycled his optics, shuffled a little, and dipped his chin so he would look up at Sideswipe. Sunstreaker bet his brother had already tapped the mech. Or was close to it.

"That's the long way. We go on the subroute _here_ , and take the Low Road Crossconnect _here_ , and hit the Level Three Free Bridge _here_ ," Sideswipe explained, tapping the screen to highlight his suggested path, "and we'll cut time to the city by half. And be less, y'know, _visible_."

"I see. Ah..."

"You stuck to the rich side of town, huh? Where you didn't have to see anything, huh?" Sunstreaker growled.

"Sun!" his brother hissed.

Perceptor flinched and looked up. "He has called me on the truth, Sideswipe. I was lucky and wished not to see. Perhaps if fewer mechs had done as I... Perhaps if _I_ had done otherwise. .. Well. I must live with my own mistakes. This route is safe?"

"With half of Cybertron extinguished in the last few centuries, and another quarter run off, I'd think so," Sunstreaker said sarcastically.

Sideswipe gave him an ugly look as Perceptor flinched again. The red scientist straightened. "All right, then. We shall go that way. Wheeljack?"

"That's fine." The fins on the side of his face flashed in time to his comment. Sunstreaker wondered why he had them. Then he thought he remembered something about the short mech being a demolitions expert of some variety. That explained the blast shield he always had up, too. If his vocalizer got shorted, anyone finding him could get _some_ questions answered. If he were conscious. With some humor, Wheeljack added, "I got locked in too much to look around, myself. So, eh, onward and outward, yeah?"

Sunstreaker glared at the theatrical quote and bodily pushed the scientists toward the road. "C'mon."

They transformed obediently and drove on. Sideswipe folded up and took off after Perceptor, leaving Sunstreaker to take the rear with Wheeljack.

They drove along the subterranean roads of Cybertron, chatting on comm lines to lessen the weight of the world's silence. Privately, Sunstreaker didn't think it helped.

Everyone that had spent any time in Iacon knew where the Academy was. A sprawling, heavily interconnected complex of buildings, it was hard to miss. Like the subroutes _to_ the city, Perceptor had not known the underway went from the city's edge very nearly to the door of the Major Sciences building. 

Sunstreaker thought Perceptor looked a little disturbed. Good. He should be.

Sunstreaker, who had been more involved with the Artisan majors himself, peeked out of the surface access, and he listened intently to the surface surroundings before he waved the others up after him. He wanted no surprises. Whatever the scientists thought and what the real world had in store had too often been different for Sunstreaker's comfort.

Even inside, the crawling sensation of _waiting_ didn't diminish. Paranoidly, Sunstreaker insisted they start all the way at the highest lab and work their way down. He hoped to be closer to an exit when whatever his _waiting_ feeling meant actually happened.

Sideswipe kept glancing at him as nothing turned up, and Sunstreaker got more twitchy. Conversely, the scientists grew more pleased. Centuries of weapons research had been saved, apparently. All was good, to them.

After the third safe Perceptor cracked--and really, why did that very proper mech look _comfortable_ doing that?--they were making their way to the fourth and final targeted laboratory across the balcony circling the upper floors when the shouting started above them.

For Sunstreaker, it was kind of a relief.

The pitch of the cries escalated as Sunstreaker and the rest moved into a shadowed hallway. A few minutes later, the ceiling and parts of the uppermost levels exploded. Debris flew down.

Most problematically, a chunk of said debris landed right on top of Wheeljack's head. The flashing fins went dark, and the mech crumpled.

Sunstreaker grabbed the fallen mech and dragged him back into the hallway they had just emerged from. The two red mechs in their party flattened themselves against the walls. Shadows descended past them in the open central shaft, following the debris. Sunstreaker heard the high whine of finely made thrusters. 

Sideswipe leaned his head back against the wall, venting silently. Even his armor flared for maximum ventilation. Sideswipe moved the heavy blaster in his hands. Sunstreaker, crouched now at his twin's pedes, listened as at least two seekers landed below them, and a few others descended from the ceiling. Rebels, then. Vos had gone the other way, nearly entirely.

If they didn't get out of this ruined building now, he and Sideswipe _would_ die defending a couple of stupid scientists.

Perceptor crawled on his front to the edge of the balcony after the noises settled to a distant bickering on the ground. The dim light of the second moon spilled through the collapsed roof all the way to the ground floor below. Perceptor turned. Fear lit his optics. He held up all five fingers on one hand, then closed that hand, then held up two.

Sideswipe nodded above Sunstreaker's head. Sunstreaker frowned. Reaching up, he covered Sideswipe's hand on the trigger. Then he turned into his spark for that place that was always his twin's. He focused and, with difficulty, shared his idea along their entangled bond. Sideswipe scowled down, shaking his head. Sunstreaker released his brother, then he crawled to Perceptor's position.

Perceptor and the unconscious Wheeljack had insisted this little excursion would be easy. And necessary. Vital research they had to retrieve. With the main body of the revolt elsewhere, it was the only good time.

Sunstreaker wondered if Prowl had counted on the still technically neutral Sunstreaker to demand to go along. If he survived this, Prowl owed him a weapon.

He looked over the edge through a hole in the busted railing. He dialed his optics as low as he could and still see anything. Three of the seven were clearly seekers.

Why did the fragging things always come in threes?

The trio argued in the middle of the devastation of the ground floor. Of the other four, two had Altihex builds, one Iaconi, and one Kaonite. Sunstreaker watched the trio of seekers. The mostly red and blue one was the leader, he decided.

With their large frames and broad wing structure in root mode, seekers did poorly in close confines. On the other hand, they were strong and heavily armed. The Kaonite worried him most, after the large, heavily armed seekers. Slipping back silently, he looked at Perceptor, then Sideswipe. He tapped the scientist on the olfactory and pointed to the unconscious Wheeljack.

Perceptor frowned and glanced at Sideswipe. Proving that he might not be as dumb as he looked, Perceptor slowly, silently worked himself under the smaller, unconscious mech. Sunstreaker met his brother's fiercely unhappy gaze with his own. Sunstreaker reached for Sideswipe's spark through his own.

Sideswipe shook his head again. Sunstreaker pressed his lips together and pointed sharply at Perceptor and Wheeljack. Turning away, he crawled to the decrepit stairs.

First, he had to claim one of the rebels' weapons from them. The regulars had protested Prowl's initial plan to give Sunstreaker one. Not enough weapons for them. Not their job to arm those that remained Neutral. If they couldn't be loyal, they were undeserving.

Whiners. Sunstreaker had not bashed their heads in. Prowl had been very grateful. 

Apparently, it didn't occur to the regulars that protecting and arming refugee Neutrals for their own defense would lure them to the loyalist side of the equation. That wouldn't work with Sunstreaker, but _they_ couldn't know that.

So first, a weapon. All three seekers had what had looked like heavy duty titanium alloy laser barrels installed on both arms. They were large enough, he thought one would make a good short staff. With their internalized cybernetic triggers, Sunstreaker couldn't fire them, though. Pity.

From inside, his brother's anger faded to cold determination. Get the scientists out. Then come get his glitch of a brother. Sunstreaker didn't plan for it. Sideswipe would have to rouse the injured Wheeljack first.

At the stairs, Sunstreaker inched to his pedes. He moved slowly and carefully made his way down the stairs, testing each step before he trusted his weight to it. Inside, he could feel Sideswipe leaving with Perceptor and Wheeljack. His twin was also angry; he wanted to be sure Sunstreaker knew that.

When Sunstreaker was halfway down, one of the Altihex bots shouted and pointed toward where his brother and the scientists should be. The red and blue seeker snarled and shoved the purple seeker in that direction.

Sunstreaker snapped into motion, leaping out across the gulf to catch the rising seeker by the root mode shape of his wings. They both went down, crashing hard right on top of the Altihex mechs.

Shunting pain warnings aside, Sunstreaker scrambled up the flattened seeker's body. He braced his pedes on the arm and yanked the laser barrel off with all the strength he could muster. The mounting gear protested, but quickly snapped under the onslaught. Sunstreaker immediately bashed his makeshift weapon into the seeker's head as hard as he could. The moving Altihexian got it across the back of his head next.

The red and blue seeker screeched orders at the ground frames. The Iaconi and the Kaonite ran for the opposite stairs. His brother got the easier deal. The two conscious seekers lunged at Sunstreaker.

Two on one odds still weren't _that_ bad. Even if the seekers were larger and actually armed.

Spinning on his pedes, Sunstreaker ran. The red and blue seeker hurled insults after Sunstreaker as the yellow mech darted into what had been the ground floor offices of the building. Like most of the oldest buildings in Iacon, it was not designed for the tall, broad Vosian natives. The halls were small; the ceilings were low.

A little large to maneuver himself as a Kaonite native, Sunstreaker was still a few spans shorter and narrower than the seekers. Sunstreaker managed to dart around just fast enough to separate his pursuit.

He took out the dark blue and grey seeker and broke off another titanium laser barrel in the mess of a long gone flunky's office. The echo of Sideswipe surged up in his consciousness, and he tuned it out. The last seeker, the red and blue one, was rapidly proving himself to be smart and _mean_.

Backtracking quickly through the shambles of the offices, Sunstreaker made a break for the open lobby and its exit. The seeker _should_ stay in the building and retrieve his flymates instead of chasing him any real distance.

They were supposed to be very attached to each other. Of course, Sunstreaker would find and tick off the _one_ that had not gotten that message.

When Sunstreaker lurched into the lobby, he understood why with sickening clarity. By reach of his echo, Sideswipe had to be at least a click away. Returning, but too distant. He wouldn't make it in time to help. He shoved Sideswipe away across the bond. His twin had to go, not come back. Sunstreaker planned to run himself.

He would never win a fight armed with two very short staves against the rebellion's leader.

"No faction markers? Youngling, just what do you think you're doing?" the giant grey mech said. Deep red optics roamed up and down Sunstreaker's frame. "Neutrals shouldn't attack their saviors."

"Why not? You attacked Neutrals at Praxus." Sunstreaker said as he sidled away from the door he had come through, not wanting that last, angry seeker to burst out directly behind him. Sunstreaker held the laser barrels cautiously in both hands. He really wished he had one working blaster in his hands.

"That was a cleansing," the monster snarled, then lunged.

Sunstreaker scrambled backwards, swinging one of his stolen barrels through the debris at their pedes. The flying junk smacked into Megatron's face, giving Sunstreaker the chance to run for the busted archway of the building's main exit.

Just his luck that the last seeker burst from the hall off to the side and caught Sunstreaker in the midsection, throwing them both to the ground. Sunstreaker twisted under him trying to bash the pit demon seeker in the head with his flymates' weapons.

"Starscream!" the rebel leader roared and ran toward them. Distantly, Sunstreaker decided that he was screwed. He and Sideswipe were going to die for a pair of idiot scientists and their boss's lousy cause.

Rapidly calling up old routines, the yellow twin threw out higher processor function in the name of pure, instinctive speed. That simple, wild end of his mind, the part that had loved the fight and spilled energon, brought his knee up into the seeker's gut. Sunstreaker heard the gurgle of an upset intake tank, and the seeker rolled off of him. Directly into Megatron's pedes.

As the pair of mechs crashed down, Sunstreaker made a successful break for the outside beyond the archway. He stumbled down the steps to the courtyard.

The sickening noise of a heavy cannon powering up chased him. Sunstreaker threw himself down the last few steps, barely sparing himself the brunt of a shot across his back.

Transforming airborne, his sensor net screamed through the grinding of damaged joints and plating. Sunstreaker crashed to the slick surface of the courtyard, hover wells already powering. His joints threatened to seize with abuse, and the blast damage burned for his attention.

Again, he shunted the warnings aside and made a run for the ruined inner city where Optimus headed the main force instead of back toward the loyalist army camp.

Sideswipe pulsed a panicky question after him. Having turned over his main processors to his core instincts, Sunstreaker shoved back at his brother with his conscious thought, pushing through the surface noise of his and his brother's lives.

After breaching the illusory shell of division, the combined whole of himself heard the thunder of a seeker overhead. Felt the sticky energon of a terribly still friend on his fingers. Heard the whine of a powering cannon. Saw the moonlight fading across an empty, dead street. Saw a seeker and Megatron himself fly over him into view. Felt a panicked touch on his cheek.

They fell apart. Sunstreaker swerved with the sudden shock of being alone. A cannon shot narrowly missed his tailpipe. His brother was right; Primus _did_ look after fools.

He swerved tightly around the next open corner, careening wildly before regaining control. The pair of rebels had to circle back between the tall buildings to catch him again.

Then they got the bright idea to split up.

Sunstreaker was definitely screwed.

He doubled back, now intent on plunging headlong down the intercity freeway until he ran over Optimus Prime at the other end of it. He prayed Megatron would ignore him then. Sunstreaker didn't have a chance facing the rebel leader _and_ that mean aft seeker with no weapons of his own.

From the depths of the dead city ahead of him, a siren blipped once. Twice.

Sunstreaker poured everything he had into pure speed. It gave him a direction to aim. If that wasn't Prowl's siren, Sunstreaker would feel bad. Provided he _survived_ to feel bad.

He hadn't thought any surviving enforcers would end up on the other side of this war. Law and order types should, he felt, prefer to work for Primes. Except he didn't recognize the leading black and white Praxian vehicle alt thundering toward him.

The one _chasing_ him looked like Prowl with Jazz for company.

Prowl transformed, skidding on his aft down the road, and brought a heavy combat rifle up. He aimed over Sunstreaker, up at the twin's pursuers and fired, all in a beautifully smooth motion. Even when friction stopped him on the road, Prowl kept firing.

Jazz shifted to tackle the Praxian they had chased, using his momentum to spring unto the fleeing Praxian. Sunstreaker braked hard, spinning to face the battle as soon as he passed it.

He didn't think even Jazz and Prowl could handle a seeker, a random flunky, and Megatron by themselves either.

"Jazz!" Prowl shouted, as he took more shots. Jazz jumped back, ignoring the blue spatter of processed energon from the other Praxian's ripped up vitals.

Sunstreaker took that as his cue to leave. The sounds of transformation sequences caught up to him as he speed away, aiming his alt mode down the intercity straightway. The echoing screeches from that seeker didn't follow them. Nor did the nightmarish rumble of that cannon. The angry cries in the night faded.

A few long clicks later, an exhausted Sunstreaker slowed. Jazz slipped ahead of him into the point position. The yellow twin let himself calm for another click before he gingerly reached for Sideswipe.

His brother reached back, relieved. Glimpses of the subterranean city roads leaked across. Sideswipe moved away from them. He wasn't being pursued. Sunstreaker sagged in his own relief. Prowl sped up slightly and came alongside Sunstreaker, while Jazz slowed and moved to the other side.

Prowl's hover well nudged Sunstreaker's alt mode lightly, then Prowl said, "Please pull over?"

Sunstreaker strained his sensors back behind them and then ahead before he stopped. Prowl stood up and reached a hand down to hover over Sunstreaker's injured canopy. "How badly are you hurt, Sunstreaker? Sideswipe did not say you had been shot. Is Sideswipe injured, as well?"

"Megatron missed, mostly. I'll be fine," Sunstreaker said. His rear view sensors twisted in an alt mode shrug. "Sideswipe felt fine. Perceptor looked all right through his optics. The rebels set a charge off, and falling slag nailed Wheeljack in the head. I got one seeker and a pair of Altihexians with a jump, to give Sideswipe and the scientists time to leave. There was an Iaconi and a Kaonite--have to ask Sideswipe if he got them, the red and blue seeker ordered them off--think Sideswipe made noise. After the jump, I managed to take another seeker down, and then I ran smack into Megatron. I decided to run and not look back."

"You can _see_ through Sideswipe's optics?" Jazz demanded.

"You _fought_ Megatron? After taking out two thirds of his commanding seekers?" Prowl asked. His sensory wings flicked madly.

"Whoa, one at a time! I didn't fight Megatron. I knocked junk into his face and ran. _Sometimes_ I can see what Sideswipe's seeing. It's not the safest trick. But I don't have anyone's comm frequencies, and I don't have a weapon. Against that last angry seeker and Megatron, I wanted help. Once Sideswipe saw what I had, I hoped someone would listen to him."

"That explains why the image capture Sideswipe sent was layered," Prowl said thoughtfully. "Perceptor trying to get Sideswipe's attention, and Megatron with Starscream chasing Sunstreaker."

"He wasn't supposed to be here. What was he after?" Jazz muttered. More to himself than Prowl.

"Wheeljack's files," Sunstreaker cut in, "The red and blue seeker said he couldn't open the safe for Wheeljack's research. That's why the charge."

"How'd you hear that?"

"He was bitching at his buddies before Sideswipe made some kind of noise. Megatron was creating a distraction, and you guys walked into it. They really want whatever Wheeljack had in there."

"Had? _Did_ they get it out?"

"No,' Sunstreaker said smugly, "Perceptor didn't know Iacon like Sideswipe and I did. He gave you a main roads time estimate. We took a back way in. Had time to get his, that Wheeljack mech's, and someone Perceptor called Brainstorm. I'm kinda shocked Perceptor knew how to crack those safes. He didn't look like a criminal type."

Prowl stared at him, then his wings flicked twice, hard. Jazz burst out laughing a moment later. He slapped his hands together gleefully. "You guys did an awesome job. When your brother sent that comm off in a panic, I thought you two were dead. But this--great job."

"I'm not one of yours, Jazz." Sunstreaker inched away from Jazz, only to have Prowl stop him with a light hand on his roof.

"Thank you for helping, Sunstreaker. I know our problems are not yours. I am sorry I did not calculate Megatron's presence here. I should have," Prowl said quietly.

"Give me a heavy blaster. That'll be thanks _and_ apology enough."

Prowl raised a flat hand to stop Jazz's protest. To Sunstreaker, "I shall see what I can do. We should hurry back to the convoy now."

He stepped back and transformed. After Jazz had changed as well, Prowl led them along the intercity highway directly toward where the convoy marched.

Prowl nudged Sunstreaker towards the medical transport with his hover well. Sunstreaker resisted. "I can make it 'til we stop."

"I wish to make certain that you will go to Ratchet. You have indicated a dislike." Without the sensory wings clear and twitching, Sunstreaker didn't know exactly what that meant. But thinking back on their conversations, he had an idea.

"I'm not going to extinguish or fall out. I just don't wanna transform until I do have Ratchet's attention," Sunstreaker said carefully. "Some seams and joints got slagged in that hit. It hurt bad to transform, after."

"I see. May I stay with you?"

"Sure. You're a good shot. I can only play a comm game, though."

Prowl angled away, then back. "I do not need to be entertained. I am concerned."

"All right," Sunstreaker murmured. Silence fell as they drove in the line up. He could feel Jazz's attention land on him every so often. While he had done his level best to stay off Jazz's radar, he was probably screwed now.

Predictably, the army marched the whole way back to the fortress they held. Sideswipe waited in the below level courtyard the army regulars marched down the ramp into. He pounced on Sunstreaker as soon as the ramp began closing back into the ceiling.

"You're an idiot. How bad s'it? What were you _thinkin'_?"

"Can you stand?" Prowl broke in.

"Will both of you shut it?" Sunstreaker grumbled. He thought very carefully before he forced his body out of his alt mode. Pure stubbornness kept him from doing more than hissing while his sensor net screamed at him. Prowl caught him before he fell. Sunstreaker rewarded his kindness with a wicked glare.

"Help me?" Prowl asked Sideswipe as the red twin wedged himself under Sunstreaker's other arm without the prompt. "The medical wing is this way."

"I know where it is. What are _you_ doin' here?" Sideswipe demanded.

"I am helping Sunstreaker," Prowl said; his wings fluttered in confusion.

" _I'm_ helpin' Sunstreaker," Sideswipe snarled.

And mechs thought Sideswipe was the nice one? Sunstreaker hissed, "And _Sunstreaker_ is right fraggin' here. I'm not a _doll_."

Sideswipe muttered.

"I will break your face, Sideswipe. You know I'm better than you." Sunstreaker glared his brother into silence as the three limped along. The trail of walking wounded had mostly beaten Sunstreaker there. Prowl studied the crowd with his wings held at a tensely unhappy angle. Counting, Sunstreaker realized. He wondered whose plan this had been. Whose information it had been based on.

Sunstreaker tried to steer them to the waiting bench, but Prowl slipped from under his arm. Staggering to catch himself against Sideswipe, Sunstreaker glared after him. The short black and white mech disappeared into the waiting crowd of taller mechs.

Sideswipe harrumphed. Sunstreaker flatly ignored him. 

The crowd parted, mostly, as Sideswipe helped his twin to the bench. Some hissed in sympathy after getting a look at his back. The only ones he saw with worse injuries were already being worked on. Sunstreaker wondered if that meant the truly bad had simply been extinguished.

Ironhide appeared in time to help Sunstreaker actually sit down.

"Prowl said th' biggun 'isself gotcha. Tha's ugly 'nough. How'd tha' _nah'_ take yer whole spinal 'ousin' out?" Ironhide asked. His hands moved surprisingly gently over Sunstreaker's armor. "Stay still, relax, Ah'll fin' it... There."

Ironhide's fingers had poked into a seam at Sunstreaker's shoulder, making Sunstreaker tense with paranoia. He tried swatting Ironhide away, but then Ironhide found a _something_ in there that made everything below Sunstreaker's shoulders go numb. His hands dropped with a clank. Sunstreaker gasped. "I can't--"

"Don' need t' move. Tha' don' las', anyway. More's th' pity. Jus' settle down. Ratchet ain' done with Prime yet."

"Then get someone else." Sunstreaker hissed. "I don't like this."

"Did _Megatron_ shoot ya?"

"If he really looks like the posters, yeah."

"Then we're gonna let Ratchet look a'cha. He's a real medic. Th' other guys are engineers and scientists." Sunstreaker glared at Ironhide. Ironhide made a soothing sound. "Anyway, _Prowl_ said _Ratchet_. So _Ratchet_ it's gonna be. Ah'm gonna be 'ere. Y'r brother's 'ere. No one's gonna 'ur'cha any more'n y' are."

"I'm not one of yours," Sunstreaker growled softly.

"No, but y' certainly go' 'urt fer one a mine. Do fer me, do fer ya. Relax." Ironhide _petted_ Sunstreaker in spite of his indignant complaints and Sideswipe's laughter. "Ratchet'll be a bit. Settle down. So, yer 'andy with a weapon, huh? Prowl's sayin' ya should get a blaster."

"Know what I'm doing."

Ironhide studied Sunstreaker carefully for a long time. Sunstreaker would have squirmed if he hadn't been numb. "If'n y' don' mind-- c'n Ah see ya move, 'fore Ah give y' one."

"I am not fragging you and your mate."

"Ah'm a weapons instructor, smart aft. Ah wanna see wha'cha already c'n do 'fore Ah stick ya with a sparklin's weapon." Ironhide snorted down at him.

Sunstreaker looked up with narrow optics. He considered Ironhide's height, probable weight and possible skill. The back of his processor, the wild side that had taken out the seekers and saved his aft from Megatron, suggested several ways he could take Ironhide's primary fuel pump out once he had mobility in his arms back.

Ironhide's slow, superior grin faded to something sad and thoughtful. "Y'll be needin' somethin' that favors accuracy an' limits collateral, then. No flash. Straigh' t' th' poin'. Nah' a sniper's weapon, though. Good infantry blaster."

Sunstreaker snorted himself. "Not going to test me now?"

"Ah know tha' look, young'n. Y've made yer kills already. Give y' a warnin'. Watch tha' darkness--"

"It's what eats you alive," Sideswipe broke in. "We know."

"Good." Ironhide patted Sunstreaker's shoulder gently, then glanced back. "Ratchet's ready. Got feelin' yet?"

"Some," Sunstreaker muttered.

"Righ'. On 'is pedes, Sideswipe."

His brother and Ironhide leveraged him up and half lifted him onto a freed gurney. Sunstreaker was not pleased to be on his front.

A white torso matched with a red pelvis walked into view with an antiquated wheeled table. Ratchet's voice came fron above him after a moment. "That's impressive for one shot. Did you remember to duck at all? And do I-- Tell me those aren't transformation tears. _Sunstreaker_ , what were you even _doing_ getting _shot_?"

"Playing tag with Megatron and some seekers," Sideswipe grumbled.

"That had better be a joke."

"Akshully," Ironhide drawled, "Prowl's a pretty specific mech. 'E said 'shot' an' 'Megatron' inside my 'earin', an' Ah failed t' 'ear 'Prime' with it."

" _Primus_."

"More like _Unicron_ , y'ask me," Ironhide chuckled.

"Go away!" Sunstreaker heard over his head, and then a thump. He watched the old red mech walk away. Ironhide still snickered. Sunstreaker vented. Sideswipe tightened his grip on Sunstreaker's hand.

Ratchet hooked up a feed into his secondary intake line. Sunstreaker watched it, swallowing. "I'm going to have to knock you out. This is...very close."

"I..."

"I'm going to need to take you to surgery, Sunstreaker. Sideswipe is going to need to wait out here. Remember what I said? I _need_ to help others." Ratchet met his optics when Sunstreaker turned to look at him.

The yellow twin looked away first, ignored the way Ratchet patted him like a good sparkling, and nudged his brother away. "I'll be fine."

"It's all right, you big sparklets. Sit down and take a nap, Sideswipe. I'll take good care of him," Ratchet said. Sunstreaker frowned. Still, he settled under the medic's light touch around his feed lines. Ratchet hadn't hurt Sunstreaker yet, and the mech had been proven himself a good doctor. Attitude aside.

Sideswipe hesitated still and reached briefly across their bond. Reassured, Sideswipe let Ratchet wheel Sunstreaker away. "Don't worry. I'll be right here, Sun."

"Okay. I wake up less than beautiful still, I'm gonna be slagged off," Sunstreaker muttered at Ratchet's midsection as he drifted.

"Yeah, yeah. Promises mean nothing, mech."

Later, Sunstreaker remembered glaring at Ratchet as the medic became two, and then the world grew bright and warm.


	5. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of rewards and consequences.

"He was not supposed to be hurt."

Optimus Prime cycled his optics, trying to focus on his visitor. For all that the accusation had come quietly, it was still an accusation. "No one was ever _supposed_ to be hurt, Prowl. This is about Sunstreaker, isn't it? I am sorry he was injured. He wasn't given permission to leave with them. Perceptor and Sideswipe refuse to answer questions, and Ratchet still has Wheeljack under. I don't know _how_ he got there."

"Sideswipe."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He will protect his brother." Prowl's sensory panels twitched in irritation behind him. "You will give him a weapon."

"I never wanted to keep him unarmed, Prowl. He'll get a weapon. Ironhide found a cache here that has the perfect kind for Sunstreaker in it, he says."

"That is acceptable," Prowl said. His giant tattle tales still moved in agitation.

Optimus remembered Jazz's warning; Prowl was their key to survival. And however it had happened, Sunstreaker was very quickly becoming the key to Prowl.

Jazz had his theories.

Optimus thought it much more simple than theories. They needed each other.

They _all_ needed each other.

Optimus watched Prowl, and he smiled to himself. Well, Sunstreaker would keep Prowl present in the moment, at least. "He will have a weapon, Commander Prowl. You'll need to get him to work with us. Then we can better protect him,"

"He does not want to fight."

"He is willing to defend, no?"

Prowl looked thoughtful. Then he turned and left.

Optimus chuckled to himself.

* * *

When Sunstreaker came around again, boot sequence sluggish and sullen, the creak of moving joints assaulted his audials.

"Pwow', fraggin' shtahb tha'," he croaked at the black and white blur beside the bunk he found himself face down on.

Creaky sounds of movement. "I beg your pardon, Sunstreaker?"

"Hedsh poun'en' an' neenen ki'eh. Primus."

"Oh, I see. I did not realize," Prowl said very softly with no more sound of his wings.

"Jus' how'n th' Pits did tha' mean slag-all?" Another voice from somewhat further away said. Sunstreaker whined.

"Shh. His head hurts," Prowl told the other, voice low. "Ratchet said it might, when he come to consciousness."

"Okay, but those weren' no _words_ , Prowl," the other said, quietly now. Ironhide, Sunstreaker decided.

"First, he called me by name, swore, and then asked me to stop. Second, he said his head was pounding and asked me to be quiet," Prowl explained very patiently.

"Guh Pwow," Sunstreaker mumbled.

"There is no need to be sarcastic, Sunstreaker."

A repeated creaking sound made Sunstreaker wince, but he smiled after. He glared blearily at the quadruple image of laughing red frames behind Prowl.

Shutting his optics off completely then bringing them up again brought Prowl, Ironhide, and Sideswipe into focus. He swung an arm out to grab at Prowl weakly. "Oil?"

"Thank you. How about later, when you are fully awake?" The wings flicked twice, creaking, but Sunstreaker didn't mind this time. "General Ironhide found a weapon, by the way, that I think is perfect."

"Guh Pwow," Sunstreaker repeated.

"Sunstreaker, please. That is really unnecessary."

Sunstreaker closed his optics and vented. "Weapon?"

"Modified infantry standard hand piece. General Ironhide located a cache meant for the city Elite Guard. The Prime ordered that one be marked for you, in light of your service," Prowl explained. "It is a very good weapon. I believe you will be pleased."

"Not joinin'."

"Prime does not expect you to do so. He indicated that you deserved a reward for your assistance to our scientists. You have a vested interest in your brother, but that did not mean that you had to help Perceptor and Wheeljack," Prowl replied. A hand patted Sunstreaker's shoulder, and Sunstreaker opened one optic to eye Prowl. The mech's creaky wings moved up and down, slowly. "That you ended up facing down both Megatron and the commander of his air forces, leaves Optimus Prime feeling that the least he owes you is a weapon and the medical care that a regular would deserve. Ratchet said he had the material to upgrade your current plating, should you choose."

Sunstreaker rebooted his optics again. He struggled to get his arms under him. He was tired of lying on his front looking at mechs sideways. Prowl, being closest, reached out to help Sunstreaker with a scarily powerful grip.

Sideswipe growled behind him and shoved past Ironhide. Sunstreaker gave his brother a sour look before he turned his glare on Prowl. He let the mech help him upright, anyway, and ignored Sideswipe's irritation coming across their entangled bond.

Prowl couldn't lie, so the mech was as good as his word. Still, Sunstreaker had to ask, "Upgrades?"

"To your plating, yes. He has said he can improve the look as well as improve the durability. If you intend to assist Sideswipe more, I recommend that you accept his offer. He also promised he could do the same for Sideswipe."

"Nah' a shedul?"

"A schedule? Yes. Prime asked that you and a few others be given advances in placement." Prowl's wings squeaked as they fluttered behind him.

Annoyed, Sunstreaker eyed them. Enough was enough, he decided. "Oil."

"Sunstreaker--"

"Gimme."

"Ah'm out. Sideswipe, whoa there! C'mon, mech, don' be fussy--" Ironhide grabbed Sideswipe to forestall the agitated red twin from lunging at Prowl. For his part, Prowl studied both Sideswipe and Sunstreaker very intently.

"Oil," Sunstreaker repeated in a mutter and held out a hand. Sideswipe scowled at Prowl, but he let Ironhide pull him away.

Prowl obediently stood up and looked through the supplies in the recovery ward room's cabinet. He handed Sunstreaker the tiny bottle of joint grade lubricant that he found. Sunstreaker glared at him and waited. Prowl's browplate arched, and he vented, "This is highly irregular, Sunstreaker."

"Turn 'roun'," Sunstreaker mumbled. Prowl vented again, then he turned to present Sunstreaker with his wings. Prowl went very still at the first touch, and he remained stiff while Sunstreaker worked lubricant into the curious structures of the wings' ball joints. He obeyed Sunstreaker's silent commands to move the joints. The creaking faded, and Sunstreaker relaxed.

Prowl stepped away, and Sunstreaker watched as the bicolor wings fluttered through an agitated pattern. Belatedly, Sunstreaker remembered that those wings were _sensory_ panels. He did not panic; he was proud of himself.

Prowl turned his head to peer at Sunstreaker over his shoulder, and Sunstreaker could have sworn something strange looked out at him. Sunstreaker looked away, frame tense.

"Thank you, Sunstreaker. My joints do feel better. I must return to my duties. Perhaps I may find you, after second shift, for a penta game? I will not be able to play long. There is a meeting, after, that I must attend."

"Y-yes. Yes. I have time. Then," Sunstreaker scowled at his slip, but Prowl completely ignored it. Sunstreaker relaxed again, slowly.

"Do you need help to lie down before I leave?"

"No. Wanna wake up."

"As you wish. I will inform Chief Medical Officer Ratchet that you need to discuss the upgrades with him when he has time." Prowl slipped out as silently as his name implied.

Sunstreaker felt like all of his struts melted in relief.

At least now, Sideswipe's irritation made sense. Still dusting the anesthetic from his processor, Sunstreaker hadn't thought about what he was doing. Feeling up the special sensory equipment of a relative stranger was _not_ a good idea.

Sunstreaker frowned at the floor. He couldn't recall a time he had ever just touched _anyone_ that wasn't his brother. Sunstreaker had tolerated touches before. Medics, overly friendly customers, Prowl a couple of times, fools that caught him in a decent mood.

Sunstreaker would have to be careful with Prowl. Prowl might be unable to lie to him, but there was no telling what he might do without warning. Prowl had proven a little unpredictable in his behavior around Sunstreaker, whatever anyone else said about the mech the rest of the time.

In the process of standing, Sunstreaker's luck let him down. After his addled processor spun, he lurched into the door. It slid open in response to his proximity, and a harsh oath in Ratchet's voice followed.

Sunstreaker groaned. Ratchet charged through the open door. Sunstreaker met Ratchet's scowl with his own. "Sunstreaker!"

The medic caught and dragged Sunstreaker back to the berth. "I am _not_ ready to release you, you young idiot! Lie down! I'm going to talk. You're going to listen. Then you're going to _stay down_ and recharge here until tomorrow. _Tomorrow_ Sideswipe can come take you back to that box you share with him."

"What if I don't wanna be here?" Sunstreaker muttered.

Ratchet met Sunstreaker's glare with his own. Then he vented. "Remember what I said?"

Shifting uneasily, Sunstreaker allowed the medic to bodily help him back onto his front on the berth. Ratchet then held up a control rod. "Now, here. After some discussion with your brother, I set this up for this room's door. Sideswipe and I will be the only ones that can just come in, okay? Everyone else will have to punch the intercom."

"What did he tell you?" Sunstreaker demanded sharply.

"He didn't have to tell me. He fidgeted until I asked him how to reassure the both of you. I... I owe you. Wheeljack is..." Ratchet dithered, and Sunstreaker cycled his optics.

"You're fraggin' him," Sunstreaker supplied for him after he put it together.

"That's crude!"

"Uh huh. Gimme the control rod. Then explain how you two are gonna repay me," Sunstreaker said, stretching slowly. "It better have something to do with fixing the new scarring. I refuse to be made ugly for anyone."

"Extortionist."

"We saved your mech at the expense of my plating. I'm even letting you bully me because you like it. You _owe_ me, doc." Sunstreaker wagged a finger at the medic and grinned.

Ratchet snorted. "Fine. Wheeljack already promised to have a batch of high quality nanopaint ready soon. Now, on the subject of your upgrades..."

The medic talked at length about the type of things he could do with the materials they still had available. Sunstreaker only vaguely listened. He only needed upgraded plating and some fuel efficiency upgrades that he didn't have natively, and he told Ratchet as much.

The army medic, whom Sunstreaker now believed had been _much_ more before, eyed him. "You know, Wheeljack heard how you jumped off and rode that seeker to the floor. He had somethin' in mind for you two. Jetpacks. Sideswipe practically danced."

"Too heavy. And lumbering. I'm _fast_ , and I'm not screwing that up," Sunstreaker told him. "Now a _glider_ or _chute_ , maybe. Maybe. Gotta fit into my frame and not screw my balance."

"Huh. I'll relay that. And _I_ will make sure he tests it fully before I allow him to install it."

"You'd let _him_ work on _my_ body? He's a demolitions expert!"

"He's qualified as a basic field medic, too. I'll let him work upwards, let's say, with me watching."

Sunstreaker poked at the bedding. "Well. As long as I'm okay. I guess he'll need practice."

"You'll still be blindingly beautiful and absolutely deadly, okay? I promise. Here. I got something for you," Ratchet said and handed him a tiny datapad. Sunstreaker looked at him sideways. "Pull the corners, you big sparkling. It expands. Play with it. It'll give you something to do. You're too smart to leave bored _and_ unsupervised."

"Hmm. What's on here?"

"Anything I could find to finagle. Play with _that_ and don't destroy my medical suite. Got me?" Ratchet tapped the end of Sunstreaker's olfactory with his wagging finger. "Be good, stay still so the new welds take, and I'll see what else I can improve."

"You're _bribing_ me. For _what_?" Sunstreaker demanded.

"Because I don't want you hurting. It's purely selfish. If you two get the best I can do, with the skills you already have, I..." Ratchet hesitated, looking aside.

Sunstreaker stared. He got it. The loyalist army was losing. The revolt wasn't doing great, for winning. This slow attrition would end their world. Ratchet wanted mechs to invest himself in for the long haul to the end. Sunstreaker wasn't being bribed for his affection. He was being fortified for Ratchet's.

A funny feeling snuck into his spark, echoed from Sideswipe's. The medic and the mad scientist weren't bad mechs, at least. Sunstreaker just didn't know that he liked the logic.

"I take bribes. If it's worth it to me," Sunstreaker said softly after a moment. He tapped the datapad to rouse it. He grinned smugly at Ratchet. "Seriously, spoil me all you want. I was the best then, and I'm the best now."

"I'll mold a bigger head for that ego, before it breaks your cortex." Ratchet smiled without humor at Sunstreaker's glare, then he turned to leave. Sunstreaker ignored him in favor of the new toy until Prowl, returning for his game, brought him an energon cube.

Sunstreaker slipped into recharge four hands into the game.

When Ratchet woke him to check the progress of his healing, Sideswipe stood behind him, triumphantly holding a bucket of nanopaint. Sunstreaker whined impatiently. Ratchet laughed at him. Sideswipe helped him upright.

"Sorry," Ratchet murmured as he inspected the repairs he had done. Sunstreaker twitched under his hands as the imbedded scanners _tickled_ his sensory net. Finally, Ratchet looked at Sideswipe and said, "You be careful applying that. That hit really was close to sensitive areas. I don't want anything breaking."

"We're not delicate, Ratchet," Sideswipe chuckled, but he obeyed the command, to Sunstreaker's annoyance. "Here we go. Let's make you pretty again."

It sucked that Sideswipe didn't share Sunstreaker's artistic talents. Venting in annoyance, the yellow twin settled under the red's familiar touch. As Sideswipe worked the silvery nanopaint onto the stark welding scars on the sensor laden spinal housing, Sunstreaker was just grateful that Sideswipe had nearly as light a hand.

Ratchet watched them quietly, and then he smiled. "You two are adorable."

Sunstreaker glared at him. Sideswipe snickered, "You know, he _likes_ the glare."

"Your brother is right. I _do_ like the glare." Bravely, Ratchet tapped the end of Sunstreaker's olfactory, then snatched his hand back as Sunstreaker bit at the medic's sensitive fingers. "Now, you _can_ go after Sideswipe finishes. You are _not_ clear to do any lifting for another day. And you'll want to recharge on your front again tonight. Let me have another look at you tomorrow, and maybe I'll give the okay for light work and recharging on your back."

"I won't break."

"Maybe not, but you did nearly cripple yourself transforming after that blast. You scared me, all right? Just do as I say for a few days. I'll worry less when I get the pair of you upgraded," Ratchet said, jabbing a finger at Sunstreaker.

"I've always been good to transform before, as long as the hit didn't get through plating and housing," Sunstreaker complained. 

"Sweet Primus," Ratchet whispered as if to himself. "Humor me, okay? Treat yourself nicely."

Sunstreaker harrumphed, too relaxed under Sideswipe's soothing hands to grumble as much as he wanted. Ratchet chuckled weakly and continued, "Wheeljack is working on something for you. And he promised it wouldn't explode."

"Or otherwise damage something I'm going to need," Sunstreaker muttered.

"You big sparkling," Sideswipe said behind him.

"I'm beautiful. I plan to stay that way," Sunstreaker said primly.

Ratchet vented. "Actually, he talked about a graphene chute. I'm not entirely sure I like the idea, though."

"Why?" Sunstreaker looked up, frowning.

"While thin, and therefore lightweight, I'm concerned about its other properties. I'm debating with him. Maybe a graphene compound to inhibit the conductivity..." Ratchet stared off into space, obviously lost in his mental space.

"Hey, doctor. I'm not a scientist. Not a medic, either. Not smart enough. There's a reason I _break_ things, not fix them," Sunstreaker said, prodding Ratchet in the side.

"I have an idea, built off his," the medic snorted. "There is a material light enough not to frag your balance and strong enough to hold your weight--"

"I still wan' a jetpack," Sideswipe cut in.

"--in a fall. Yes, Sideswipe, you're getting a slagging jetpack!"

And mechs said _Sunstreaker_ was selfish.

"As long as it holds and doesn't blow me up somehow or make me trip on anything," Sunstreaker said. He might be _picky_ , but he hadn't demanded any gifts. They offered him something special, and he just made sure they understood what he expected out of it.

"It won't. I promise," Ratchet said, and then he patted Sunstreaker's cheek plate. Sunstreaker snarled and jerked his head back. Ratchet ignored the action. "Sideswipe, your jetpack and plating upgrades will be finished first. Don't glare, Sunstreaker. He wasn't as specific."

"He didn't have to be. He fights like a hammer."

"You're one to talk! You broke that seeker you dropped yourself on!"

"You should be grateful _I_ didn't break, too!"

"Your head's _already_ broken! Your swollen ego snapped the plating!"

"Quiet!" Ratchet roared. Both twins turned to him in stunned silence, and he continued at a normal volume, "This is a _medical_ ward. We need quiet. For the record, the seeker was probably fine. Can't say if the Altihexians were, but Vosian builds are even sturdier than you two. Occasionally, they _fall_."

Sunstreaker shivered. Not sharing his brother's fascination with heights, he had a healthy dislike for falling. Sideswipe patted his arm. "Whatever. Don't run out of power before you get back on the ground or _you'll_ fall, Sideswipe."

"Yeah, yeah. I gotcha. And there's that sudden stop at the end," Sideswipe muttered. "Maybe I should have a chute, too?"

"We'll make it part of your design. Shouldn't take up that much space. Definitely won't be heavy. Do you two jump off buildings a lot?" Ratchet frowned down at them.

Sunstreaker studied the cheap abstract wall art left behind by the deserting regulars, and Sideswipe cleared his intake before refocusing his attention on the task under his hands.

"Is there a flaw in your processors that I need to know about that makes you wanna jump?" Ratchet asked carefully.

"They put us to fighting flight builds a lot," Sunstreaker said softly, distantly. "Here. In the arena. When we didn't exist. I'm so much lighter, and Sideswipe's so much stronger. Took nothing to run me up Sideswipe's alt mode and catch air. Snag the flier from the top on a pass or flip them over with damage, and they will break the fall. Like you said, they're sturdy."

Ratchet stared down at them, tension radiating from him. Sideswipe vented and leaned against Sunstreaker's back, careful of the nanopaint. Sunstreaker closed his optics. Slowly, Ratchet said, "Parachutes are preferable. I got some other ideas. When we have designs, I'll comm you."

Sunstreaker picked at the bedding and pulled himself out of his memory. "You better. I get final say. _My_ body. And it must be perfect."

Sideswipe snorted. "You're so _vain_ , Sun."

Ratchet chuckled, "Both of you are. Go on. Get out of my medical suite. I'll see you _tomorrow_ , Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker vented. "Fine."

Sideswipe stood, pulled him up, and nudged him ahead. "I'll make sure he comes back, doc. Just give me cool toys and make him prettier, an' he'll even be willing!"

"I can break your face, Si, _without_ hurting myself, and you know it."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't, and you know it."

Ratchet laughed them all the way out of the door.

Hours later, Sideswipe casually stretched against the target range partition, eyeing Sunstreaker. The yellow twin guided the pulse rifle smoothly through its paces. When Sideswipe opened his mouth to speak, Sunstreaker interrupted, "Shut it."

"But--"

"No, Si."

"You shouldn't--"

"Si--"

"Ah. Here you both are," Prowl said as he approached them. Sideswipe grumbled and straightened. He put himself between Prowl and Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker glared at both of them.

Prowl halted, at a slight distance, and studied Sideswipe. "Sunstreaker, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet assured me you had gone to your quarters to rest."

"I've rested enough," Sunstreaker muttered irritably.

"Does the weapon meet with your approval?" Prowl asked after a loaded pause. Sunstreaker could feel the worried disapproval, could _see_ it in the sharp movements of Prowl's wings, and it made him twitch. No one had ever worried about him except Sideswipe.

And Sideswipe didn't have a choice.

Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder at Prowl, considering. "Yeah. It's a good one. Light for its class, durable, fast recharging, and easy on fuel."

"The Elite Guard only ever had the best available," Prowl said quietly, with a slow wave from his wings.

[ Are you _fraggin'_ him? ] Sideswipe demanded over their short range comm.

Sunstreaker snarled, set the safety, and brought the barrel of his new weapon around to smash into Sideswipe's useless head. Prowl moved between them suddenly, and he caught Sunstreaker's arm. "Stop. Whatever he said, it is not worth returning to Chief Medical Officer Ratchet to explain."

Sunstreaker flinched back, tugging against Prowl's grip. Shifting on his pedes, Sunstreaker silently willed Prowl to retreat just a few steps. The Praxian stayed where he was between them a click too long for Sunstreaker's comfort. When Prowl released Sunstreaker, he looked up at Sideswipe expectantly.

"Giving us gifts ain' gettin' our panels open for you," Sideswipe hissed.

"That is good; I do not desire you to open them for gifts," Prowl replied evenly. "Having seen your skills, I believe you should be given weapons to match. Chief Medical Officer Ratchet and Chief Engineering Officer Wheeljack assure me that they will have armor plating upgrades ready for you soon."

Sideswipe went still in confusion. Sunstreaker felt about the same. Everyone had always wanted them. Sideswipe had indulged them. If they were willing to _take_. It had surprised them both how _many_ had wanted under his brother.

Prowl gently squeezed Sunstreaker's arm. "Would you like an identical weapon, Warrior Sideswipe?"

"I-- yes?" Sideswipe said slowly, optics locked on Prowl's hands.

Sunstreaker watched Prowl's wings flick twice, and that brightly white hand slid from Sunstreaker's own bright yellow one. Sunstreaker lifted his gaze to meet Prowl's.

Behind Prowl, his wings traced an invisible pattern in the air. "Then I will have one pulled aside for you, Warrior Sideswipe. See that Sunstreaker does not injure himself, please? Our Chief Medical Officer will be too occupied to properly yell at him for another few hours."

"Okay..." Sideswipe mumbled at Prowl.

"Perhaps, Sunstreaker, we can play penta later?"

"Sure," Sunstreaker agreed hesitantly.

Both twins stared at the Praxian as he walked away. To Sunstreaker, Sideswipe whispered, "Did that make sense to you?"

"No," Sunstreaker whispered back. "But we might as well take advantage of the offer."

"Duh. I wan' a _good_ weapon. And that right there," Sideswipe said, pointing to Sunstreaker's rifle, "is an awesome weapon."

"Yes. It is." Sunstreaker patted the weapon and checked the safety again. "I'm hungry. Let's grab a cube, then I'll rest like they want me to."

"Can't. I have to go on shift. I'll see you after I get off."

"Suck up," Sunstreaker said, grinning at Sideswipe. His brother snickered and remorselessly abandoned Sunstreaker with a jaunty wave.

Sunstreaker subspaced the weapon and headed for the mess hall. Inside, he ignored the crowds' sideways looks as he got himself a cube. The lack of friendly faces lead him to a corner table near the door. Sunstreaker could keep his back to the wall, and if that failed, he could always make it through the door.

He sat quietly, thinking about Prowl and his brother and the end of the world until a sudden silence disturbed him. A blue and white mech picked his way rather delicately across the floor to the dispensary. Every optic in the room locked on him in an openly hostile manner.

Their anger was understandable. Sunstreaker hadn't known _any_ members of the Elite caste had survived. But this mech could be nothing else. Not tall, he was very slim, and the quality of plating was the best Sunstreaker had ever seen with his own optics. Sunstreaker vaguely thought he had a Towers look. The red face of Primus contrasted sharply against his chest.

He belonged to the army now, then.

Someone stuck their pede in his way, nearly spilling both mech and his freshly filled cube. Sunstreaker frowned as the Elite looked down the length of his olfactory at the offender. The Elite tried to step around them, only to be shoved. The mech lost the cube this time, and shouting began in all corners of the mess hall. Mechs got up to close in.

Sunstreaker subspaced his cube. He debated his course of action only briefly. A full blown fight would delay his upgrades; Ratchet would have to do repairs. It might also disrupt the game time he had planned with Prowl later.

Neither was acceptable.

Sunstreaker walked over and grabbed the loudest offender: a red mini class domestic build. He hefted the mech off his pedes to put on top of the nearest table.

Sunstreaker's back screamed through his sensor net; Sunstreaker shunted the warnings after making sure he wasn't further damaged. The mini snarled and tried to punch Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker caught his fist and snarled right back, "Shut up. He's got army marks. And in case you _forgot_ , none of the palaces are still standing."

"What's it to you? Slaggin' Elites're why we're _here_!" Red Mini shouted.

"That's ash, glitchmouse. The _rebels_ are why we're here," Sunstreaker said. Quiet Blue backed away, putting Sunstreaker between him and the rest of the crowd. "Pay attention. The _rebels_ have been shooting the world down."

"You're just tryin' a get in good with him--"

"Ash, again. You carryin' on interrupted my meal. So I'm interruptin' _you_ ," Sunstreaker hissed and leaned down into Red Mini's face. "So shut _up_ , before you start a _fight_ , and interrupt everyone _else's_ meal."

"Cliffjumper there be why there's perfec'ly good fuel all over th' floor?" Ironhide called from behind them. The old mech put a hand out to pull Sunstreaker's hand away from Red Mini.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker mumbled. He released Red Mini, and Ironhide released Sunstreaker.

" _He_ grabbed _me_!" Red Mini shouted again, and he stomped one pede imperiously on the table.

"Oh, yeah? Thanks fer savin' me the effort a chasin' 'im, Sunstreaker," Ironhide said with a grin. "C'mere an' lemme ge'cha down, an' we'll talk. G'on, Sunstreaker. Prowl's expectin' ya."

"Fragger."

"Aw, ye're sweet t' offer, but Ah ain' inneres'ed. G'on now. Get. Mirage, ya follow th' pretty mech t' Prowl's office for yas talkin'-to," Ironhide said, nudging Quiet Blue after the sulking Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker didn't look back as the mech trailed silently behind him. The mech didn't even speak until they had nearly reached the office corridor. "Sunstreaker, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you, Sunstreaker, for your assistance."

"Wasn't for you."

"No...? Well, I appreciate my benefiting from it. I am Mirage."

Sunstreaker glanced at the mech. "Ironhide called you that. I heard."

"You... You don't hold this all against me? I do not mean to pry, but the majority I have met here..." Mirage hesitated. Sunstreaker almost felt sorry for him.

"I'm not loved and adored by the masses, either. I just _should_ be," Sunstreaker drawled. Mirage laughed, light and sad. Sunstreaker went on, "Look, I ain't forgivin' things you might have done. But they weren't personal to me."

"Ah. I see. Perhaps then, Sunstreaker, I may seek the marginal shielding of your company again? I could use a friend."

Sunstreaker frowned down at Mirage. Friends? With an Elite class mech? Were there still Elite class mechs, if the world was burning?

"How about this--you can walk up, if I'm there, and you can ask," Sunstreaker muttered as he tapped the code into the pad beside Prowl's office door.

A level voice called from inside the open door, "Sunstreaker, it is generally not acceptable to open a door without using the intercom."

"You gave me the code," Sunstreaker said as he walked inside, ignoring Mirage's shocked look.

"For use in an emergency."

"Then tell them to quit getting their wires in a twist when your regulars get out of line with me. _They_ think it's an emergency," Sunstreaker muttered and claimed one of the comfy guest chairs.

Prowl's sensory wings twitched once, then again, before the Praxian looked up at Mirage. "And you are the mech that he assisted? General Ironhide said your designation is Mirage."

The former noble cycled his optics, clearly puzzled by Sunstreaker's casual attitude matched to Prowl's overly formal behavior. "That is my name, sir, yes."

"My files say you are to be placed with Special Operative Jazz. He requested your...handling be done by him. He will be here momentarily for you. Now, Sunstreaker," Prowl continued in that smooth, formal tone, "you left the medical suite only a few hours ago after spinal trauma. What prompted you to lift even a mini class?"

"Ah, sir--"

"I asked Sunstreaker, Cadet Mirage."

Sunstreaker favored Prowl with a poisonous glare. Those bicolor sensory wings fluttered in obvious amusement. Sunstreaker muttered, "I want Ratchet working on my stuff first."

The yellow twin would not mention their game. Sunstreaker didn't want Prowl thinking _he_ mattered. Sunstreaker put Sunstreaker first.

"I see. Did you consider that you might have injured yourself?"

"All I got were pain warnings. No _damage_ warnings, Prowl. Don't lecture me," Sunstreaker growled.

"Ah, but if you had been damaged, our penta game would have to be postponed. I have been looking forward to it all day," Prowl said softly. "And that is important to me."

The intercom buzzed. Prowl keyed it open, and Jazz sauntered inside.

"Hey, Mirage. I hear th' disturbance wasn' _yer_ fault," Jazz said as the door slid shut.

"General Ironhide said it was instigated by a group of former domestics," Prowl said.

"They looked the part," Sunstreaker muttered, and propped one elbow on Prowl's desk.

"They did," Mirage agreed. "I was ignoring them, attempting to get some fuel..."

"All right. Wouldn' normally assign punishment for that. An' won't now. But maybe if we put you on clean up duty for a while, an' they see you workin'...?" Jazz aaid thoughtfully.

"I...do not know how to perform menial tasks. I do not object to the assignment, but if I have to ask..." Mirage trailed off, shaking his head.

"It'll just be fuel in the fire." Jazz vented.

"Then Sunstreaker can instruct you," Prowl said smoothly.

"No!" Sunstreaker hissed.

"You have assisted with maintenance tasks since our arrival without complaint, Sunstreaker. Why should helping Cadet Mirage upset you?"

"I don't like mechs," Sunstreaker grumbled.

"I have deduced that. You do, however, like some individuals."

"Prowl--" Sunstreaker began warningly.

"Sunstreaker, please help him," Prowl asked gently. "He only needs to be taught how."

Sunstreaker slumped back in the comfy guest chair. "Fragger."

Prowl met Jazz's thoughtful gaze. "He may be assigned to Sunstreaker for the time being. That will put him visibly working, per your request."

"You're an ash pile, Prowl," Sunstreaker muttered.

"That'll do, Prowl. C'mon, Mirage. Let's get you fueled. C'ja give 'im your comm, Sunstreaker? That-a-way he can get with ya when Ratchet releases ya." Jazz smiled easily down at him. Sunstreaker shifted uncomfortably in Prowl's comfy guest chair. After glancing sharply at Prowl, Sunstreaker did as asked, routing through the base access by designation.

"Thank you, Sunstreaker," Mirage murmured as he got it.

"You're welcome," Sunstreaker mumbled back. He glared at Prowl as Jazz and Mirage left. "You're mean to me."

"I have asked you to make a friend, Sunstreaker."

"I don't _have_ friends."

"Are we not friends?" Prowl asked. A soft edge colored his voice, and the mech's always active sensory wings slowed to a stop.

Sunstreaker cycled his optics; his processor suggested it meant fear or pain. Frowning, Sunstreaker said slowly, "We are. You can't lie to me."

"I see," Prowl responded. "It would... It would please me for you to have others."

"Why? You'd just have to share my attention, and it's not like everyone _sees_ you."

"Not for my sake. For yours. Help Cadet Mirage. If it does not work, then it does not work."

Sunstreaker vented. "Fine. I'll play nice. Can I go recharge now?"

"Yes, Sunstreaker. Send me a comm when you cycle up?" Prowl asked, wings twitching.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later." Sunstreaker got to his pedes carefully. After favoring Prowl with a last glance, the yellow mech headed for his shared quarters.


	6. Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apply the right force, and anything is possible.

"Jus' how'd ya get Sunstreaker t' agree t' help Mirage? Not that I don't 'preciate it, mech, but he ain' what I'd call cooperative."

"I asked politely, Commander Jazz." Prowl held his wings carefully still; Jazz could read him better than Sunstreaker. Jazz only wanted to use him; Sunstreaker asked for nothing but his company.

"Huh. Not what it looked like. Y' like him." Jazz grinned at him as Prowl lifted his optics from his work. "I ain' gonna do nothin' t' 'im. He makes y' happy. I need y' happy."

"He is my friend."

" _He_ likes _you_." Jazz continued. Jazz watched him, head tilted as if confused, and his visor dim in thought.

"I am his friend."

"Right. I'm stayin' outta it. I'll... I'll, uh, run requests through y'. I bet you could get him t' play along. With th' army. I'd 'specially like him t' wear th' silly mark. Strangers aren' gonna get his...uniqueness. Officers can be briefed an' reminded t' clear everythin' with y'," Jazz murmured, "since he respects y'..."

Sunstreaker did not respect anyone, Prowl thought privately. Not even himself. "I may be able to persuade him. He will do things that he does not like for his safety. Sunstreaker is quite practical."

"That'd be good, mech. Thanks."

* * *

"There you are! I must thank you again, Sunstreaker," Mirage began. "I am immensely grateful for your help."

Sunstreaker paused in his task, looking down at the shorter mech.

"You made it. C'mon, gonna start here, cleaning the dispenser. Gotta grab the X-13 solvent. It's always in the orange bottle. That cabinet," Sunstreaker said, nodding to the small doors set into the wall behind the machine. After Mirage fetched the bottle, Sunstreaker pointed inside to the pump switch on the cabinet wall. "You turn it off here. Always turn it off first. If it doesn't stop pumping, you'll be pretty tasty all day."

Mirage chuckled and, just like Perceptor with Sunstreaker's idiot brother, tilted his chin down to peer _up_ at Sunstreaker. "It sprays? Well, if I forget, perhaps someone will help me clean it off..."

Sunstreaker took a step back, frowning. "Maybe someone else will. Once you got the pump stopped, you drain the hoses into a cube. Dismantling it is pretty easy after that, but remember the order. You'll have to reassemble it in reverse."

"And this bucket is for...?" Mirage asked, without a sign of disappointment or frustration.

Sunstreaker vented in relief. "For the parts. After you stack them all in, you let them soak for an hour. Only use the X-13. While the parts soak, you clean the machine with the towels from the cabinet here. Just get some solvent on it and clean off the gunk."

"What happens if the bottle is empty?" Mirage asked, "Or if I have something else?"

"Don't ever use anything else. X-13 doesn't start hissing, spitting, and throwing bits of stuff that slags your plating," Sunstreaker stressed. "There was an idiot that used somethin' else, and Ratchet had to replace his whole chest plate. Don't _ever_ use anything else."

"Oh." Mirage eyed the machine like it would eat him. "Is he...all right? Now?"

"Huh," Sunstreaker murmured, glancing sidelong at Mirage, "That explosion didn't kill him, no. Now, if the bottle _is_ empty, we get more from the big chemical closet out in the hall. It gets restocked from Stores. I haven't worked in Stores, but Sideswipe has. If you wanna know more, get with him."

"Only X-13. Got it."

"Good mech. Now watch. When I get it back together, your turn. When we finish this one, we do the second machine," Sunstreaker said. Since he had handled their personal machine in Iacon, it was an easy enough task. It was even soothing in a way, but he would never _say_ that to anyone.

Sunstreaker took the machine apart, ignoring the residue, and reassembled it for Mirage to try. While he worked slowly, Mirage only hesitated twice in completing his dismantle. He assembled it without that hesitation. Mirage even began the process again without prompting or hesitation.

The rest of the clean up crew looked at them askance, but Sunstreaker had lots of practice ignoring funny looks.

Whatever the collection of mini domestic builds said about Sunstreaker's temper, he had only slagged the one officer. And he still thought he was justified.

"Okay. Take it apart again and clean it this time," Sunstreaker instructed when Mirage had finished his second assembly. "Soak the small parts in the X-13, now. Then use a towel with the solvent on it to clean the machine."

He watched the mech pour the solvent carefully into the bucket, then think about how to get the solvent onto a towel without spilling it. Sunstreaker studied the back of his hand until Mirage figured it out for himself. That settled it for Sunstreaker. Mirage could learn what his upbringing hadn't given him. He was willing to learn it, too.

Mirage still worked slowly, but he went through every step correctly. Glancing around, Mirage saw the hamper the others used for the towels. After Sunstreaker nodded, Mirage dropped the used towel inside.

When Mirage had reassembled the machine, wiping each part dry with a clean towel, Sunstreaker interrupted Mirage to show him how to lock it closed. Mirage dumped the used solvent in the waste materials bin as directed. Without prompting, Mirage moved to the second machine to repeat the process. Then he did the third machine, and the fourth.

"I am sorry that I am slow," Mirage murmured halfway through the last machine.

"They can't complain. We're not on the task roster, so anything we do is helping them," Sunstreaker replied. "Jazz an' Prowl can remind them of that little fact if they _do_ complain.

"Oh, dear. I was aware that I'm not on the roster, but I didn't think they would have you working on your off hours. I'm so sorry," Mirage said, wincing.

"I'm not on the roster because I'm not military. Your Prime told them they couldn't order me around."

Mirage cycled his optics in surprise. "You're a declared Neutral...? But...?"

"Sideswipe wanted to obey orders, and I didn't. I help out in exchange for a cot in Sideswipe's quarters and supplies." Saying it that way made Sunstreaker feel like a mercenary.

"May I ask who Sideswipe is?" Mirage said delicately, "You've mentioned him twice now."

"He's my twin. Less attractive, less smart. He's red, mostly, with some white and black," Sunstreaker answered.

"Ah, I see. Are you...engaged with Commander Prowl, then?" Mirage continued, in the same tone. His fingers gently brushed Sunstreaker's arm.

That's when the line of questioning clicked.

Sunstreaker snatched his arm away and snarled, "I'm unavilable, and that's not gonna change."

"My apologies. I was hopeful of a, hmm, working relationship," Mirage said. He held his ground; Sunstreaker would rust before admitting to being impressed. The clean up crew glanced over with alarm. "I'm more than willing to trade favors for your presence."

Sunstreaker cycled his own optics as that sunk in. He vented hard with disquiet roiling in his intake tank. "Do you _deserve_ the help?"

"I was rich and spoiled. I was not out to hurt anyone, but it may have happened," Mirage said softly, "By the time I began to get over myself, the world was already spiraling out of control. For what it is worth, I agreed with their _message_. It is their actions, and a wish to repay my rescue, that brings me here."

Sunstreaker tapped his fingers against the counter next to the machine. "I'm not available. Sideswipe is, if you really wanna frag someone. If anyone bothers you, you look around for me or my brother, if you can't find Jazz."

"I don't want to impose--"

"If you earned your beat down, you're on your own."

"Well. That's fair, then. I will owe you several favors," Mirage murmured.

Sunstreaker snorted, "No. Prowl owes me for doing him a favor. Ratchet owes me for reducing his workload. I'll just tack it on to their bills."

"Ratchet? The medic? Is he... Never mind. It is none of my business. Well, I will be appreciative of your help, It will only be until I can handle myself. Commander Jazz assures me that will be soon."

"He's good," Sunstreaker said cautiously.

"So I have gathered."

"All right, you got this down. And you have to head for your whatever, right?" Sunstreaker asked as he watched Mirage finish the last machine.

"Yes, I am to meet Jazz to begin training."

"Good luck," Sunstreaker vented. "They promised us upgrades, but they'll probably do us one at a time. We'll be around."

"All right. I shall keep a look out for your brother to introduce myself. Thank you again," Mirage said, putting his hand on Sunstreaker's arm and squeezing gently before letting go. "We can arrange more instruction later?"

"Yeah. Dump the towels and the used solvent, stack your bucket with those," Sunstreaker instructed, pointing, "and you're free to go."

Mirage smiled sadly and followed his directions. Sunstreaker sauntered out into the corridor after the short blue and white mech. The maintenance team watched them, whispering amongst themselves.

The maintenance roster usually consisted of the domestics that had decided to move to the front line. While Sunstreaker agreed that it fell into their skill set, he wondered if it pissed them off to find themselves cleaning up after the few remaining loyal soldiers.

He wondered if they counted _him_ as a soldier. Perhaps they thought he was a traitor for refusing to join their stupid fight club.

Sunstreaker shoved the thought out of his processor. He had a meeting scheduled with Ratchet.

He was surprised to find Wheeljack in Ratchet's office instead. With an obvious gratitude tempered by a ridiculously avuncular demeanor, Wheeljack welcomed Sunstreaker to sit down. "So, Ratchet says you don't want a jetpack 'cause even the best would be bulky. We worked out a graphene based mixture that won't conduct more than your circuits can handle. I already saw your brother about his--"

"Where's Ratchet?"

"Huh? Oh. Prime called him to a meeting. Now I was thinkin'--"

"He didn't call you, too?"

"Um, no? I think they're just chatting, actually. Prime's kinda... Well, lonely. He doesn't have any friends, so Ratchet sorta volunteered himself. No one else did..." Wheeljack's display fins flashed in a slow, weak sequence to accompany the information.

Sunstreaker supposed it was lonely leading an army that was at least half refugee camp. Especially when both army and refugees blamed the Prime government for the whole situation. Instead of commenting, Sunstreaker asked, "So, are you going to clear me for light duty?"

"No. Ratchet has promised to rip out my primary fuel pump and beat me with it as I bleed out if I ever pretended to be medical doctor," Wheeljack muttered, cringing.

Sunstreaker vented. Ratchet took himself entirely too seriously. "So you have a design for my parachute?"

"Wha'-- Oh! Not a design, but I got some ideas, and that's why I wanted to talk to you. Now that you're here," the engineer began, slipping behind Sunstreaker, still nattering. Sunstreaker tensed as hands touched his back, carefully measuring. The crazy mech either didn't notice, or wasn't going to tempt fate and comment on, Sunstreaker's sudden tension. "See, I can build in a harness beneath your plating, spread the sudden g-load of it opening across your superstructure. Create recessing panels _here_ and _here_ so a two-part chute won't be right over your spinal housing. Both can be big enough to hold you and light enough not to frag your balance. I know that was important to you..."

"Cables to a big anchor aren't a great idea, either," Sunstreaker pointed out.

"Detachable cables, then. Ratchet and I planned to settle the controls into your cortex. We'll just add a disconnect and the relevant commands. Now, if you have a right and a left, you'll have to have separate commands to deploy and detach..."

"Do you have to alter my back plate?" Sunstreaker asked softly.

"Hmm? No... I could design an outer container on the upgraded plating... Huh. If I use the right alloy, we'd still not be looking at a big weight increase. And it would provide extra protection for your spinal housing. Run it the length here," Wheeljack murmured, and his light touch traced a path to match his words. "That'd work. Really well. Now, that's all you want?"

"Sideswipe likes gadgets. I'm more...hands on. Or keep 'em way off of me," Sunstreaker said. He looked down at his hands and wondered how often could he kill before he lost himself.

The silence stretched, and finally Sunstreaker shifted in his seat to look at Wheeljack. The engineer didn't look very intimidating while counting on his fingers with his fins flashing and winglets flicking like an agitated Prowl. Sunstreaker decided, tentatively, that he liked the mech. By the time the mech came around again and waved Sunstreaker out of Ratchet's office, Sunstreaker had decided he really, really liked the mech.

Wheeljack followed him, happily telling a story about his first teacher blowing up the rollerball stadium in the tiny academic community he had been created in. Wheeljack even asked Sunstreaker about Sideswipe, and the engineer somehow got Sunstreaker telling him about the time Sideswipe had let Sunstreaker decorate him in paint they had found discarded as sparklings. Wheeljack threw an arm around Sunstreaker's shoulders, height difference aside, and turned them toward his lab.

Once inside, Sunstreaker eyed a contraption dripping a shockingly pink substance. It smelled like energon. Really, really strong energon.

"Uh oh," Wheeljack laughed as he followed Sunstreaker's gaze. "I forgot I had that running. Don't tattle on me to the other officers?"

"What _is_ it?" Sunstreaker muttered.

"Hm. It's a still. It, uh, really concentrates energon. Then I add stuff for flavoring, but the results are still much, much stronger than midgrade. Side project, y'know? I mean..." Wheeljack vented and rubbed a hand across the top of his head, then continued, "I mean, all the good things in life don't...don't just all have to disappear. If there's no reason... If there's nothing to _enjoy_ in life... Well, I know I'd give up."

"That's really safe to drink?" Sunstreaker poked a tube, watching the liquid inside shimmer fluorescent rainbows. 

"Oh, sure. I had some last night, matter of fact. Here. You and Sideswipe can have some later. Just don't tattle on me, okay?" Wheeljack tapped a sequence on the dispensing machine his 'still' dripped into. Beside it, the air shimmered in the long familiar way of cube formation. After the first filled, Wheeljack nudged it aside for the second. "There you go."

"Thanks?" Sunstreaker murmured uncertainly.

Wheeljack chuckled, fins flashing, and pulled a small screen in front of the still. "Can't have everyone spotting it, now."

Something deeper inside the lab beeped, and Wheeljack excitedly pulled Sunstreaker along behind him, barely letting the yellow twin subspace the two cubes. "See, this is something else I've been working on. Got it on a timer, see--"

Amused, Sunstreaker let the mech ramble about his experiments. Like before, Wheeljack phrased his explanations in plain Cybertronian. Sunstreaker actually followed most of what Wheeljack was doing. Sunstreaker got so involved in listening, that he didn't even notice when the door opened.

A red hand grabbed Wheeljack's shoulder, cutting the mech off in mid-sentence. Sunstreaker and Wheeljack both jumped, startled. Sunstreaker nearly ran over Prowl, backpedaling.

Bicolor wings flicked twice in sharp amusement at him, as Prowl caught Sunstreaker's arm to keep the yellow twin balanced. Ratchet grumbled, "Wheeljack owes me some time. Prowl insists you agreed to play cards with him. Again."

"You were supposed to clear me for light duty today," Sunstreaker said accusingly.

"That was until I was told you picked a mech up yesterday. Now I'm not clearing you until tomorrow," Ratchet muttered.

"That's not fair. It was only half a mech."

"No. You're not getting cleared. You're not supposed to be hurting yourself. I'll look at you tomorrow-- if you stay out of trouble tonight. Go play cards." Ratchet eyed Prowl unhappily. "Even if it has to be with him."

Sunstreaker frowned. "He's my friend."

"I know," Ratchet muttered.

Wheeljack vented. Then he grabbed Ratchet's head and, miraculously remembering to retract the blast mask he always seemed to have up, cut off the medic's bad temper with a kiss.

"I believe that we are dismissed. Shall we?" Wings fluttering, Prowl lightly set his hand on Sunstreaker's elbow to turn him to the door. "Do you know Praxian Stack rules for penta? I can show you..."

Once over his surprise, Sunstreaker dragged Prowl out of Wheeljack's lab by the mech's own grip. No matter how often Sunstreaker saw honest desire, his processor still occasionally locked up on mechs _wanting_ to do _that_.

Sunstreaker would rather play cards.

Once inside Prowl's quarters, Sunstreaker sat at the table and listened to Prowl explain the altered rules. For a few hands, they played quietly. After Sunstreaker lost those first few rounds, he started to tell Prowl about his day, ending with teaching Mirage and listening to Wheeljack ramble.

Prowl listened intently with his bicolor wings tracing responses in the air. That rare, barely visible smile came and went more than once. Cautiously, after the fifth hand, Sunstreaker pulled out the cubes Wheeljack had given him.

"Is that high grade? Where did you find that?" Prowl asked, brow plate arching.

"Wheeljack made it... I've never had it before. Don't get him in trouble," Sunstreaker added after a moment. "He... He talked about having things to enjoy. Fun things in life."

"The standard army rules do not allow high grade processing," Prowl said, studying the color of the cube's contents. "However, Wheeljack's sentiment is correct. Prime has already stated that he does not wish to forget that this is as much a colony in the ruins as an army. I will make sure Wheeljack's production is not disturbed."

"Can you do that?"

"Prime has ordered his command element to generate a block of rules designed for the function he intends for the loyalist groups. I can see that high grade production is allowed, with permission, as long as there is enough regular fuel," Prowl said. He took an experimental sip. Shuttering his optics, Prowl sat very still, but his wings tipped up to just above their resting position and swept back and forth. Finally, "Wheeljack certainly knows his work."

"So it's good?" Sunstreaker took just a small amount himself. First, a light sweetness slipped across his oral sensors, followed by a savory undertone. The burn of too potent fuel barely registered beneath both. Sunstreaker swallowed more.

"Do you wish to play another hand?" Prowl asked.

"Yeah. We can keep playing until you need to recharge," Sunstreaker said, then he lifted the cube again.

"Be careful. This has much more kick than I might have expected," Prowl said as he shuffled the cards and dealt again.

"What does that mean?" Sunstreaker said, setting the cube on Prowl's table before picking up his cards.

"It is stronger than I had thought," Prowl said, then expanded his warning. "Too much high grade can upset your systems. Wheeljack's concoction is quite strong. I know that you have run on a low charge quite often. Your systems may be sensitive as a result. Please be careful."

"Right," Sunstreaker murmured. Prowl still made him feel a little uncomfortable. And...funny.

"Sunstreaker, I wish... I wish to ask a favor of you. I know that you do not want to be counted among the army, but, for your safety, would you consider wearing the mark?"

Sunstreaker turned a flat, ugly look on Prowl. The Praxian's wings flicked. "It is only a request for your safety."

"I'll think about it," Sunstreaker muttered.

They played a few more hands in companiable silence. Sunstreaker kept picking up the cube; he had never had anything that tasted quite so good. It wasn't until Prowl called a halt to their impromptu tournament hours later, that Sunstreaker realized that he had emptied half the cube.

And then the room spun crazily as he stood up.

Sunstreaker caught himself against the table. Cool fingers pressed against the plating above his optics. A soft voice murmured reassuringly, "Sunstreaker, it is all right. You have had too much."

"Th...think you're...right."

"Rest here. Shh," Prowl said quietly. The cool hand slid away, and Prowl grasped Sunstreaker's upper arms, tugging the yellow mech back on to his pedes. "Give your systems time to work through the extra charge."

"Leggo!" Sunstreaker shoved at Prowl, sudden panic lighting his clouded processor. Prowl dropped his hands immediately and stepped away. Sunstreaker's systems, confused by his fear and the excess charge, let Sunstreaker fall on his face on the floor. His back shot another pain warning at him for the bad landing. Cycling his optics, Sunstreaker struggled to get up on his aft. He looked up at Prowl.

Sensory wings tipped low and pressed tight to his body, Prowl looked anxious. In the same smoothly gentle tone Prowl used on Bluestreak, he said, "I want to help you to the bed, Sunstreaker, so your systems can properly store the charge."

"Don' wanna be fragged," Sunstreaker mumbled, scooting away.

Sunstreaker couldn't follow the rapid movement of Prowl's obvious agitation, but the wings' sudden stillness, after the mad dance, became disquieting very quickly. "You are my only friend. Were I to harm you, I would lose your friendship. I will not harm you."

Sunstreaker stared past Prowl to the trembling tips of his sensory panels. Fear. It meant _fear_. Prowl _feared_ that loss. Optics falling to the floor, Sunstreaker shivered. Slowly, he whispered, "Jus' gonna rest?"

"Yes. I only want you to rest."

Slowly, Sunstreaker reached up.

Prowl bent to help him up right. Gently, the Praxian guided Sunstreaker to the bed. As soon as Sunstreaker's aft met the bed, Prowl pulled away. "Rest, Sunstreaker. You are safe."

Sunstreaker laid back pensively. Prowl went back to the table silently, collecting the cards. Putting them in his subspace with one hand, Prowl used his free hand to call up _something_ on his table to work on.

Sunstreaker shut his optics down. Just for a second.

When a vicious pounding pulled him out of recharge, Sunstreaker didn't immediately remember where he was. He was comfortable, for a change from recent memory, and he felt a bright anger from Sideswipe.

His processor _hurt_.

Groaning, Sunstreaker got up slowly. Holding his head tp keep it from splitting, he realized where he was with some confusion. A half finished cube of the shockingly pink energon on the table jogged the memory from his cortex. He groaned again. Prowl's empty room mocked him. He let the angry reach from Sideswipe connect. The pounding stopped, but the anger deepened. Stumbling to the door, Sunstreaker palmed the keypad. Sideswipe growled at him, "Sun! Were you here all night?"

"Stop yelling!" Sunstreaker hissed. His processor throbbed. His internals informed him that his systems ached as a result of an abundance of overly charged fuel. Sunstreaker turned to look back at the blasted half empty cube sitting innocently on the table. He groaned and covered his face.

Sideswipe looked at the cubeand sniffed the air. Then he snarled. "Is that high grade? Did Prowl get you overcharged and frag you? I'm gonna rip his spark out."

Sunstreaker snatched at Sideswipe. "He didn't!"

"Leggo, I'm gonna kill 'im!"

"Stop! It wasn't _like_ that! Stop!"

"Then what was it like, Sun? 'Cause a look at the room says I should kill him."

Sunstreaker's pounding processor stalled under the stress, and he could hear Ironhide growling, and others behind him, attracted by the noise. "I don't know! I was talking to Wheeljack, and he dragged me to his lab, and it was comfortable, and _he_ gave me the high grade, and Prowl came for a penta game, and then we were drinking, and he put me to bed 'cause I got overcharged, and then I cycled up with you pounding on the door!"

Sideswipe stared at him.

"He just let me recharge, Si."

"Slagger!" Sideswipe snarled and charged off.

Sunstreaker groaned yet again and chased after him. "Slaggit. Si! He _didn't_!"

"I'm gonna kill the slagger!"

"For what?!" Sunstreaker demanded as his brother crashed into Ironhide at the corner of the corridor.

"I believe he thinks I have harmed you in some way." Prowl replied as he stepped around Ironhide's imposing figure. "I assure you, Sideswipe, that I did not."

Sideswipe lunged for Prowl. Sunstreaker tackled him, and his back shot up damage warnings to drown out the simpler pain warnings. Ignoring both, Sunstreaker grabbed Sideswipe's right hand and yanked it back until he could bite into the delicate interior of his twin's wrist.

Sideswipe shrieked in redirected rage. Sideswipe spun himself over, levering Sunstreaker off. Sideswipe slammed down on top of Sunstreaker and began pummeling his twin.

Growling above them, Ironhide yanked Sideswipe off and tackled the red twin against the wall.

Prowl helped Sunstreaker to his pedes with a hard grip to keep control of the yellow twin. Sunstreaker didn't try to fight, though. He _hurt_ and not just from his aching circuits.

"General Ironhide, I am taking Sunstreaker to Medical. I believe that I heard something crack." Prowl wedged himself under Sunstreaker's arm and began to walk toward the lift.

Ironhide, pinning the struggling Sideswipe by weight alone, grunted. Prowl helped Sunstreaker limp away. Sideswipe's cursing followed them. As they slowly rounded the corner, Prowl murmured, "Will you... Will you need to end our friendship?"

"No. We've fought before," Sunstreaker mumbled. And they had. Never quite so viciously, and that upset Sunstreaker. Right now, however, he just wanted to stop hurting quite so badly. His entire spinal housing sent sharp pain warnings up his sensor net. Something _had_ cracked and walking as far as Ratchet _hurt_.

Inside the medical suite, Wheeljack saw them first. After a surprised yip, he got under Sunstreaker's other arm. The engineer snapped at Prowl, "What in Primus' name _happened_?"

"His twin, since you have asked. Sunstreaker shared the high grade you gave him with me. He did not completely heed my warnings as to its strength," Prowl began.

"I'd never had any before!" Sunstreaker interrupted, snarling. He broke off in a curse as the pair got him to a gurney.

"Sunstreaker is too tall for me to walk back his brother's quarters with his systems overcharged. I let him rest in my bed. His brother believes more happened," Prowl finished as if Sunstreaker hadn't spoken.

"Oh." Wheeljack cycled his optics. Then, " _Oh!_ "

After guiding the growling Sunstreaker onto his front on the gurney, Wheeljack took off for supplies. When he reappeared, Ratchet came with him.

"Prowl, just what were you thinking, getting him overcharged and letting him get in a fight?" Ratchet snapped. "Sunstreaker, release your backplate, please."

"I wasn't fightin'. An' I wasn't overcharged when I was _not_ fighting," Sunstreaker mumbled into the gurney's cushion.

"It is true. Sunstreaker was no longer overcharged by the time Sideswipe arrived at my door."

"Wait-- _Sideswipe_ attacked you?!" Ratchet demanded.

"No. He was goin' for Prowl," Sunstreaker hissed.

"Sunstreaker intercepted Sideswipe to forestall an attack on my person. General Ironhide is holding Sideswipe now." Prowl said, watching Ratchet work with anxious flickings of his sensory panels. "I heard a crack."

"Just _why_ was Sideswipe trying to jump you, Prowl?" Ratchet asked slowly.

"Sunstreaker rested overnight in my quarters. Chief Engineer Wheeljack's gift of high grade was...outside of Sunstreaker's experience. He became overcharged before he realized the problem. Sideswipe did not like my solution."

"Prowl!"

Prowl cycled his optics and looked up to meet Ratchet's gaze. "I could not balance him the whole way to his quarters. He is too tall for me to do so. Sideswipe was on duty. Sunstreaker needed rest to handle the charge."

"So Sideswipe is fragged off because Sunstreaker recharged in your quarters. Is that all that happened?" Ratchet demanded.

"I'm right here, Ratchet," Sunstreaker growled.

"You know that is all that happened, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. You called me here to help you run inventory for our move only minutes after Sunstreaker began recharging." Prowl met Ratchet's scowl with an arched brow plate. "General Ironhide had come to get me for _his_ inventory when Commander Jazz commed me about a disturbance between the twins."

"So you didn't earn Sideswipe's anger before you came here?" Ratchet growled.

"Of course I did. I earned it when I decided not to comm someone other than Sideswipe to help me take Sunstreaker back to their quarters. I had been trying to spare Sunstreaker the embarrassment, but it seems I relied too much on Sideswipe's good judgement." Prowl's wings flicked twice.

"Ratchet," Sunstreaker muttered, taking a swipe at Ratchet's hands, "Nothing happened. I'm gettin' pretty fragged off down here. _Stop it!_ "

"Fine. Be still! You've really hurt yourself, this time. I'm going to have to knock you out again."

Sunstreaker clenched his hands. He glared at Ratchet's pedes. "I don't want to be out."

"Sunstreaker," Prowl said softly over his head, "I know you do not want to be unconscious again, but you have trusted the medical officers here before. Will you do so now?"

Sunstreaker shivered, whined in pain, then muttered, "Fine."

Ratchet cursed at Prowl, but his hands on Sunstreaker's plating remained gentle. The soft click of sensory panels swinging slowly followed Sunstreaker under.


	7. Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes friends and family choose you.

"What do you mean the twins had a 'vigorous disagreement'?" Optimus Prime asked his Chief Engineer and Head of Special Operations. Thanks to the informational reservoir of the Matrix, he knew the twins were not really two mechs with small sparks but halves of a single spark housed separately. How did one have a 'vigorous disagreement' with one's self...?

"Well, I heard 'em yellin' in the Officers' Hall an' I called Ironhide, who brought Prowl. Prowl an' ol' Ironhide pulled 'em apart, an' Prowl took Sunstreaker down t' Medical. He got himself hurt in the scuffle," Jazz explained.

"Ratchet said Sunstreaker's spinal housing cracked under the strain, and Ratchet was _livid_ ," Wheeljack vented. "Threw me out of the operating theater. Hmph."

"Apparently," Jazz drawled, "That's nah' 'takin' it easy'."

"Anyway, I actually had Sunstreaker's upgrades ready first, and I'd brought 'em to Medical, so Ratchet's gonna repair him through upgrades. It'll be less stressful on Sunstreaker's systems," Wheeljack continued. "Ironhide brought Sideswipe in later. _Prowl_ insisted Sideswipe not be punished for the fight. Sideswipe yelled at Prowl. Then Ratchet poked his head out and yelled at both of _them_. They, uh, started _discussing_ their...misunderstanding when you called to find out why Ironhide and Prowl were ignoring you. We wanted Ironhide watching 'em, see."

Optimus had not considered that the 'single mind' he knew was behind the twins might be conflicted about a friendship with Prowl. He stared into space for a time, thinking.

Jazz pulled a small blade from somewhere in his plating and began to sharpen it. Wheeljack began to fidget nervously.

When Optimus Prime shook himself aware again, he cycled his optics and chuckled at the pair. "My apologies. Hmm. For the moment, I'll let Prowl handle the...domestic dispute, since he is the source of the trouble. He won't like them fighting. Prowl will do what he has to, to that end. All right. Thank you for coming."

Wheeljack eyed Optimus and lingered after the snickering Jazz left. "You approve of whatever this is?"

Optimus tapped his fingers on his desk. "Prowl's experimental tactical network is our key to survival, Wheeljack. The twins are a brute force that we also need for our survival. We are not heavy on surviving combatants. Keeping them all happy is, therefore, my job. I think this 'whatever-it-is' will do that. So, yes. I approve."

"Sideswipe doesn't. Neither does Ratchet."

"Do you?"

"Well...not my business to approve or not," Wheeljack said. "They behave, and they get along. After that..."

"Indeed. Ratchet has no say in their private affairs. And Sideswipe... Let Sunstreaker and Sideswipe handle themselves," Optimus replied. "They will come to an understanding."

"All right, Prime. I'm just worried. I like them all, and it's disconcerting. We have enough going on," Wheeljack vented. His fins flashed a slow sequence.

Optimus wondered how many still knew the old code Wheeljack used. He shook his head. "I know. I'm trying to save as many as I can, Wheeljack. Trust me a while longer?"

"I will, Prime," Wheeljack promised slowly. Then he nodded with more certainty, "I will trust you as long as you keep your promises. And I'll keep Ratchet in line as much as I can."

"Your trust is all I ask of you, Wheeljack. Thank you."

* * *

When Sunstreaker came around this time, Wheeljack looked up at him from an awkward crouch beside the gurney. Fins flashing, the engineer turned to speak quietly to someone standing somewhere nearer to Sunstreaker's pedes, "Ah-ha! Now he's with us again."

"He recovered from the anesthetic program quickly last time as well. Chief Medical Officer Ratchet believes it is specific to the twins' parental frames," Prowl's voice responded, just as quietly. "Good afternoon, Sunstreaker. Keep still. Your systems are still settling."

"I, uh, had your upgrades ready first. Ratchet attached them, so you wouldn't have to go through surgery twice. Hope you don't mind," Wheeljack murmured.

"Shh. He is not ready to think. Rest, Sunstreaker. Your brother is coming," Prowl interrupted.

"Mmph," Sunstreaker managed. He cycled his optics off and listened to Wheeljack ramble softly at Prowl. It was kind of nice to wake up and feel safe.

Weird, too.

Sideswipe's presence washed over him only a few minutes later. Familiar hands rested on his plating. Guilt and hurt and love washed through the entanglement and pulled Sunstreaker into the lightest blending. Sunstreaker shifted in the real world to pull Sideswipe closer.

Sunstreaker felt absurdly comfortable. Sideswipe vented over him. "I'm sorry."

"Lissen a me nexsh time," Sunstreaker mumbled back at his fool brother.

"Come _home_ next time."

"I'd'a fallen down."

"Then don't get overcharged."

"Mmm," Sunstreaker mumbled rather than argue. He hadn't liked the feeling of being overcharged anyway.

"I got off with a warning, by the way," Sideswipe said. "And Wheeljack tol' me they're gonna have my upgrades ready next."

"Just gotta test the jetpack some more. No blowing up mechs on our side, y'know. And temper good alloy for the piledrivers you decided you wanted," Wheeljack said with an audible grin. Sunstreaker brought his optics back online to look at the mech. Wheeljack's optics danced above his blast mask. "There you are again. I have a data packet for the controls. Ratchet said he'd install it when you came online."

Sunstreaker fidgeted and pressed against Sideswipe's presence across their halved sparks. Sideswipe's return push soothed him. Sunstreaker murmured, "All right."

"I must take my leave now that Sunstreaker is awake. Thank you for your indulgence, Sideswipe," Prowl said as he carefully stepped away.

Sunstreaker turned to look at Prowl, and he reached out, clumsy still, and grabbed the sensory wing that he could reach. "Come by later?"

Prowl looked down at Sunstreaker then his gaze slid to Sideswipe. Calmly, Prowl said, "I have been asked."

Sideswipe made a face. "You can say no."

"But that is not the answer that I want to give, Sideswipe," Prowl replied, his tone gentle.

Sunstreaker scowled at both of them. "Somebody 'splain."

"Your twin doesn't approve of the company you're keepin'," Wheeljack explained helpfully and jabbed his thumb at Sideswipe and Prowl. "Neither does Ratchet. Goofy mechs, y'know. Don't make a lick a sense."

"Come by later," Sunstreaker demanded now, pulling on the wing.

Sideswipe growled and snatched at Sunstreaker's hand, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Hissing softly, Prowl caught the hand on his wing first and held it firmly. "Sunstreaker, please do not pull on my panels. They are very sensitive. I will return, since you have asked me to do so."

"Prowl--" Sideswipe growled over Sunstreaker's head.

"I have been _asked_ , Sideswipe. I promised that I will only do as I am asked. I very much want this friendship." Prowl met Sideswipe's gaze calmly. Prowl's thumb slowly traced the contours of Sunstreaker's palm, to Sunstreaker's vague unease. Bicolor sensory wings twitched through a rapid succession of angles.

Sideswipe shifted unhappily on his pedes. His glare faded slowly, and he eventually looked away. "Fine."

"M'right _here_ ," Sunstreaker grumbled.

"Yes, _you_ are right here. _You_ are also the point of contention between _us_ ," Prowl replied with deliberate inflection. Both twins frowned. Finally, the Praxian released Sunstreaker's hand. In a more normal, even tone, Prowl continued, "Your brother is concerned, Sunstreaker. I am merely answering his concern. Will you comm me when Chief Medical Officer Ratchet allows you to sit up?"

"Yes?" Sunstreaker said, uncertain now.

Wheeljack snickered, threw a companionable arm over Prowl's shoulders, mindful of the mech's twitchy wings, and turned the Praxian to the door.

"What was that about?" each twin demanded of the other as soon as Wheeljack and Prowl left.

Sunstreaker swatted at Sideswipe. "You crazy? You freaked out, _and_ you hurt me! I get answers first."

Sideswipe growled in response, and Sunstreaker felt that illusory separation between their half sparks crumble as the Sideswipe half reached for the Sunstreaker half. Angrily, Sunstreaker resisted, but only briefly. They folded together as one being stretched between bodies. The red half dropped to the bed and bent over the yellow.

Memories shared, and consciousness whole, the single mind eased its own fear. It admitted to wanting a friend. If it did not fully like Prowl, it did like the way Prowl _needed_. It liked having that control over the mech's behavior.

It made Prowl safer to reach out to.

The halves split apart, settling again into seemingly separate identities. Sunstreaker groaned and moved a hand to his head. Sideswipe muttered into Sunstreaker's back plate, "Yeah."

"We're fine," Sunstreaker muttered.

"Okay, okay," Sideswipe snapped back. "But I don't have to like it."

"We're fine," Sunstreaker repeated. He shifted again to press more firmly against Sideswipe. His twin vented and settled more comfortably. Slowly, the edge of upset faded from Sideswipe's field.

After a silent, comforting hour, the door slid open, and Ratchet came in. Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe's amusement and brought his optics online to meet Ratchet's thunderous glare.

" _Now_ you're cuddling?" the medic demanded. "Now, after breaking pieces of each other? You two are reprehensible."

"We are not," Sunstreaker grumbled. "He didn't get it. Now he does."

"I just still don't like it," Sideswipe added.

"Meh. Open your access. I want to install Wheeljack's data packet now that you're awake." Ratchet tweaked Sunstreaker's audial farings gently in contrast to his growl. He grinned at Sunstreaker's responding glare. "C'mon. We wanted to give you full control over the chutes. I want to walk you through controls."

Sunstreaker scowled and shifted under Sideswipe uneasily.

Ratchet touched the access panel softly. "C'mon. I'm only going to install, settle, then guide you through, Sunstreaker. Then I'll leave."

Sunstreaker scowled to cover his flinch as he retracted the panel. Sideswipe stroked his side; his twin understood. He would be getting it next.

"When is the move scheduled for now?" Sideswipe asked Ratchet.

"Four days. Sunstreaker will be cleared to transform then, provided nothing _else_ happens to him, Sideswipe," Ratchet said, giving the red twin a look, "before we march out. Medical and the heaviest combat mechs--which manages to include you two--are scheduled for the third."

"I'm not a soldier--" Sunstreaker started in a snarl.

Ratchet grabbed Sunstreaker's other faring with his free hand, growling, "Don't move! And _I_ put you down as a medical priority. I'll clear you to transform and march all day, _maybe_ , but I'm not letting you out of my sight entirely yet."

Sunstreaker scowled up at Ratchet.

"Cope, you big sparklet. And _listen_ to me. Take it easy. Now, here..." Ratchet's digital presence in his cortex pulsed for his attention. Ratchet walked him through the technicals carefully.

Afterward, Sunstreaker firmly believed Wheeljack and Ratchet were _geniuses_.

The graphene parachutes linked through a parallel system to an altimeter trigger that would automatically release one chute under the right conditions if Sunstreaker were unconscious. They had also reinforced his superstructure to take the jarring from deployment without damage from the rapid release.

The small chutes were only large enough to handle his fully armed weight and some a limited amount more. The size reduction had let them pack four of the things, all made to _Ratchet's_ standards.

Sunstreaker decided he liked Ratchet nearly as much as he liked Wheeljack.

Sideswipe reluctantly left for his shift before Ratchet freed himself from Sunstreaker's medical access. Sunstreaker asked to sit up. Ratchet _looked_ at him. Sunstreaker decided, instead, to lie down.

Ratchet patted Sunstreaker's head, grinning as he had to yank his hand back quickly. Sunstreaker fell back into recharge almost as soon as the medic left.

Onlining again had Sideswipe recharging on a stool. Sunstreaker heard Ratchet and Prowl arguing outside the door. A tug across their entangled bond roused Sideswipe. Prowl's sensory panels creaked faintly through the open doorway.

Did _no_ one else help the mech? Someone _had_ to have been doing it before. Sunstreaker grumbled, rubbed his head, and started to shove himself upright.

The bed beneath him began to wail.

Sideswipe jerked fully awake, both of his small hand blades ready before his optics cycled up. Ratchet shouted, "Sunstreaker! Lie down!"

Sunstreaker growled and started to bang at the keypads around the bed. Ratchet yelled over the alarm again, and Sideswipe put the blades away to start trying the keypads himself.

Prowl, wingtips wiggling, stepped around the medic, grabbed one of Sideswipe's hands to clear a pad, and typed a quick sequence into it.

The sudden silence was defeaning.

Sunstreaker slumped back onto the bed and rubbed his head. "Ow."

"Prowl, you can't just--" Ratchet began.

"I can, actually, if I can prove your dictates are not the best choice. Most of the time, however, I would agree that you know best. Sunstreaker, if Ratchet leaves the alarm off, will you rest as he wants you to?"

Sunstreaker glared at Prowl. Wingtips twitched at him. Sunstreaker vented. "Fine. But I'll be bored."

"Where's that datapad I got you?" Ratchet asked, optics narrowing.

"Oh, uh--" Sideswipe cleared his intake, and pulled the datapad from his own subspace. "He let me play with it..."

Sunstreaker took it and glared at Ratchet. "What was that about?"

"I want you to rest. Last time I had you in here, you got up and tried to walk away," Ratchet said, glaring back.

"Sunstreaker will stay now. Will you not, Sunstreaker?" Prowl looked down at him mildly, and Sunstreaker dreamed about breaking those twitching sensory wings.

Sunstreaker knew when he was being 'managed'. And he didn't like it.

"Fine. But you entertain me a while first," Sunstreaker said. Sideswipe grunted irritably.

"Quadrant, penta, nine square, or tiles...?"

"Thought you didn't like tiles?" Sunstreaker asked suspiciously.

"But you do," Prowl said.

Sunstreaker vented. "Tiles. All Grey Shells."

Prowl vented. Sunstreaker eyed him, waiting. Prowl's least favorite game with his least favorite pieces. If Prowl wanted to manage him, Prowl would pay for it.

"As you wish. Sideswipe, you carry a set of tiles, yes?" Prowl stepped closer, as Ratchet's jaw dropped. Sideswipe glared at Prowl. Sunstreaker poked his brother's side. Snarling, Sideswipe pulled the small box from his subspace. After a pause, Prowl asked, "Do you wish you play as well, Sideswipe?"

Both twins looked at Prowl askance, then looked at each other. Prowl waited, patient as Primus, until Sideswipe nodded slowly. Ratchet grumbled and took himself out in a huff as the red twin snagged the room's table and pulled it closer.

Sunstreaker stayed silent, listening to Prowl discuss the move with Sideswipe. The Praxian accepted Sunstreaker's glare with a slow, repeated twitch of his wings when he reminded Sideswipe that Prowl himself would be leaving for the first wave.

Dumb aft Prime would be arriving on the fourth and final wave. Scary Jazz was actually going with the Prime. Sideswipe just had to ask after Perceptor, who was down for the second. Sunstreaker was not amused. In revenge on his brother, he asked, "Ratchet won't let me go ahead with you, will he?"

"I rescinded the request after our Chief Medical Officer offered to weld several disparate, if not very vital, pieces of my anatomy together in the most complex pattern he could imagine," Prowl answered.

Sideswipe grinned. Sunstreaker promised himself that he would scare the spark light out of Perceptor.

Prowl gently touched Sideswipe's hand after the game finished. To Sunstreaker, he said, "Bluestreak is going on the third wave, as is General Ironhide."

Sideswipe eyed him. "You want we should keep an optic on him."

"He will not be the only Praxian survivor," Prowl replied evenly. "But I have an...interest in his well-being. I would very much appreciate it if you could keep track of him."

"All right," Sunstreaker muttered. "We'll watch him. But, y'know, Ironhide's good for that."

"I...intended the request more for you than Sideswipe. You are not..." Prowl's sensory wings fluttered agitatedly as the mech tried to work out what he wanted to say. Sunstreaker wondered how Prowl had gotten past his first century. "You...are...free..."

Sunstreaker stared blankly. Slowly, sense seeped into the words. "Right. Not army, an' don't take orders. I'm only gonna watch Sideswipe and Bluestreak's afts. I shouldn't even need to shoot."

"As of now, there is no reason to believe that you should need to. Do you wish to play again?" Prowl asked. "I have an hour of free time left."

"Free time...? Do you ever recharge?" Sunstreaker demanded. Something didn't quite add up about the last few days.

"My systems were designed for maximum efficiency," Prowl replied. His sensory wings flicked all the way down, drawing in tight to Prowl's body, before slowly rising to mid-level.

"All right," Sunstreaker said slowly. The body language before had been amused. Sideswipe looked at Sunstreaker sharply, face scrunched in annoyance. Sunstreaker ignored him. "When does your processor defrag?"

"During downtime when system draws are at their lowest." The slow panel movement repeated itself. This time, though, the wings remained at a low angle. "Sunstreaker, do you wish to play again?"

"Yeah. Set it up?" the yellow twin asked. He would leave it alone for now. Sunstreaker had thought he had pitied the mech before. Now, as the twins watched Prowl set up the tiles again, Sunstreaker wondered how the mech wasn't an all grey shell himself.

* * *

"All righ', everythin's locked an' loaded for yer wave, Prowl. Gonna be okay 'thout Sunstreaker?"

Jazz's broad grin met Prowl's optics when he looked up from the sturdy workpad in his hand. After a pause, the AI responded, "I am not sure that I undestand. I have only known Sunstreaker for five months."

"Yuh huh. An' y've been _inseparable_ , mech."

"Commander Jazz--" the AI began.

"Aw, don' go stiff on me. Y' work better when y're happy. So I repeat: are ya gonna be okay by y'self?" Jazz leaned over the desk. The cold weight of his visor-hidden gaze locked on Prowl.

Sensory wings held tensely still, Prowl returned the scrutiny. "My purpose has not changed."

"Jus' so lon' as we're still on th' same wavelength, Prowl. Can' have ya breakin' up for lack of a card game." Jazz's grin widened further at Prowl's hiss and a flick of his wings. "S'all 'bout th' end game."

"I cannot promise a time frame with so many variables."

"I ain't askin' for a deadline. I'm askin' for certainties."

"Prime had promised your change," Prowl said finally. "I have promised Prime his lives."

"An' what 'bout you?" Jazz asked.

"I have been promised _my_ lives."

* * *

"Fraggin' _brat_ is what he is! What kind of grown mech interferes with another's 'quality time'?" Ratchet demanded of Optimus Prime.

The tall blue and red mech looked down at his pedes and waggled his heel. Privately, he thought Ratchet was downloading what he'd uploaded. He wouldn't _say_ that to Ratchet, however.

Fact 1: A bored, lonely Prowl had, thus far, proven to simply overwork himself.

Fact 2: A bored, lonely Sunstreaker went to Prowl for entertainment.

Dilemma 1: Ratchet had prevented Sunstreaker from leaving om the first wave with Prowl.

Dilemma 1A: Prowl was no longer here to moderate Sunstreaker's behavior.

Dilemma 1B: Ratchet _was_ here with Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker's solution: Frag Ratchet off at every turn.

"I mean, Wheeljack's too old to be playing rollerball with a mech Sunstreaker's size and age," Ratchet growled.

"Wheeljack likes being active," Optimus replied in his mildest voice.

"He could be active with me!"

"And he frequently _is_ , Ratchet. Right now, Wheeljack has chosen to be active with the twins. Since that's keeping Sunstreaker occupied while Prowl isn't here to save the rest of us, I, for one, am grateful for his sacrifice," Optimus said drolly.

Ratchet's optics narrowed on Optimus. With soft menace, the medic asked, "Are you suggesting that I should have let him go on the first wave?"

"I am suggesting that it's suspicious when you'll let him play rollerball but won't let him transform to travel," Optimus responded, wagging a finger at Ratchet.

Ratchet vented. "I want him and Sideswipe on the transport with me and Bluestreak because I'll feel better with heavy mechs around the youngling."

"Prowl asked them to watch Bluestreak as well. You needn't have made a fuss." Optimus felt Sunstreaker's _particular_ reaction had directly come from Ratchet's vocal insistence that the mech go with the third wave.

Optimus decided he would keep their Neutral mascot with his unit when the planned deconstruction of the army began. Prowl would be happier. That would make Jazz not unhappy. Ratchet and Wheeljack would be pleased.

And Optimus himself would have never-ending entertainment.

Soothingly, Optimus said, "Ratchet, let them play. Second wave leaves tomorrow with Wheeljack. Third wave leaves in eight days. The transport will take five days to get there. We're not talking about forever. Just thirteen or so days."

Ratchet glared at him.

Optimus chuckled. Yes, he would definitely keep the twins with his group.


	8. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is as it seems.

Before the second wave had left, Perceptor had given Sideswipe a large pot of nanopaint. Bright and unmarred as Sideswipe's upgrades had left the red twin, Perceptor had sadly admitted to worrying anyway. Sunstreaker could have done without the passionate kiss the scientist had _also_ given his brother after the admission.

Wheeljack, obviously prompted by Sideswipe, had left Sunstreaker _several_ paint pots. Simple, colored paints. The mech had also managed to find, or make, several good-sized, thin sheets of metal. Sunstreaker had accepted them awkwardly.

Did killers really have a right to create anything? Did creating things have a purpose while the world rusted?

Sideswipe had found a crate to pack all their (mostly Sunstreaker's) new things in. It hadn't been much, but Sideswipe had been happy to have _things_ again. Everything they had once owned had been lost with Iacon.

Two days into their scheduled trip, Sunstreaker watched Sideswipe lean out of the opened viewing portals as the transport crawled along the underways. Sideswipe scanned byways above and around them. Bluestreak, occupying three-quarters of Sunstreaker's lap, leaned against his chest plate, venting softly in recharge.

Sunstreaker anticipated a bad denting when he had to wake the kid, but for now, the silence relieved his frayed temper.

Closing his optics, Sunstreaker listened to the low hum of the old, wheeled transport. A vague disquiet began from Sideswipe's half of their shared spark. It built slowly until Sunstreaker tugged back, opening his optics. Sideswipe shook his head without looking back.

Sideswipe's unease grew.

Sunstreaker braced himself for the blows and lifted his hand over the kid's mouth. Bending his head down, Sunstreaker said into a darkly colored audial, "Bluestreak, cycle up for me."

Holding Bluestreak's mouth firmly as the flailing began, Sunstreaker braced for each impact. As Sunstreaker expected, he did not escape any blows. None of them hurt, though, to his surprise, and Bluestreak stopped sooner than he had expected.

Bluestreak stared up at him, optics wild. Sunstreaker tapped a finger against Bluestreak's mouth. Softly, he told Bluestreak, "Shh. I'm not gonna hurt you. I need to see what's up with Sideswipe. Okay?"

Sense crept back into the kid's optics. He nodded. Dark sensory wings waved awkwardly as he climbed off of Sunstreaker's lap. Bluestreak didn't like quiet, but he repeated his nod of understanding when Sunstreaker repeated his tap across Bluestreak's lips.

Sunstreaker walked carefully across the rocking transport and stuck his head out of the window beside Sideswipe's. His brother's unease proved contagious. Sunstreaker studied their surroundings tensely.

Each wave had used a different route, carefully scouted by Jazz and a small, brightly yellow mini class that hadn't looked like a former domestic. Mostly because the mini class had looked too much like the most generic build possible.

The little yellow mech had been laughing cheerfully when the pair had returned. He had also been uninjured and covered in blue splotches of processed energon. Sunstreaker decided Bumblebee was nearly as scary as Jazz.

Right that moment, Sunstreaker wished the little killer was with them. Sideswipe's certainty of impending disaster had _Sunstreaker_ completely on edge now.

[ Ratchet, somethin's off, ] Sunstreaker sent to the medic. Ratchet had replaced his old civilian one with a military class comm when Moon Base One had fallen, just before the first wave had left. No one thought Moon Base Two would last much longer. And after that, global civilian communications would be down forever.

[ What do you mean 'off'? ] Ratchet commed back. The medic turned to look through the cab's open hatch.

[ I don't know. Something's not right. Gotta funny feeling, can't quite pin it down...]

Ratchet walked back to them, catching himself on the transport walls. A sharp tension from Sideswipe brought Sunstreaker's attention back out the window. Hissing softly, Sideswipe said, "I saw something move. Up on the 5677 Low Road Crossconnect."

Ratchet growled, cables tensing. Sunstreaker grabbed Ratchet's shoulder and whispered, "Don't look. They might see."

"They can't be Neutral. You're the only one left actually on Cybertron. We'd know if ours were here," Ratchet growled back. "I have to let the guards--"

"Now's not the time to hit us," Sunstreaker muttered, studying the road ahead of them. "When we hit the level changer, we'll be divided. They'll hit us then. This thing's a marked medical transport. The warriors would be sent down first to scout. So the rebels would wanna take the wounded we leave down on this level first. Then they'll take the level changer up and fire as it opens, 'cause the warriors won't be expecting it."

Ratchet stared at Sunstreaker, cables creaking with tension. "So...?"

"Got a plan?" Sunstreaker asked Sideswipe.

They both looked up at the crossconnect above them. Sideswipe sent, [ Jump down from up there, you think? ]

[ The 5677 comes close near the level changer, doesn't it? If I were jumpin' streets, I'd want as small a gap as possible... ] Sunstreaker commed back.

[ True 'nough. Think we could slip out without bein' spotted? I see a maintenance tube over that way, ] Sideswipe said, pointing.

[ Kinda far from the changer. Should be one there... ]

[ Huh. Probably. Runnin' th' changer ain't easy, anymore. Get Ironhide to stall some, and I bet we'd have time to make the tube. Come around from the back, catch them still up there... ]

[ You think Ironhide would agree? And that'd just leave three guards. Ratchet's a good shot, but I don't know that he could shoot a live mech, ] Sunstreaker sent back, pulling his head inside.

[ I'll tell him it's your plan, and I'm goin' along to protect your dumb aft. ]

Sunstreaker snarled and punched his laughing brother's arm.

Sideswipe snickered and tilted his head towards the marchers outside. Bluestreak and Ratchet fidgeted in the silence as Sunstreaker waited for his brother to answer.

Sideswipe pulled his head in, finally, and closed the window. "They'd seen. We're to get out at the level changer. With the 'guards' he'll leave behind, he hopes any jumpers that make it can be driven them off."

"Who's he leavin'?"

"Chromia an' Big Orange."

"Hmm. Chromia's good. Orange is useless, though."

"Who's 'Orange'?" Ratchet cut in demandingly.

"Um... You know his name, Sun?"

"Why would I know? I just broke the mech's face once."

"Oh, scrap. _Him_?" Ratchet groaned.

"Apparently," Sunstreaker muttered.

"He's not _that_ bad," Sideswipe laughed.

"W-what ab-bout me?" the small voice of Bluestreak asked.

"You stay here," Ratchet said.

"I'm s-scared."

Sunstreaker did _not_ groan in disgust. He deserved an award. "You'll be fine, Bluestreak. Stay with Ratchet."

Bluestreak shuddered and sidled closer to Sunstreaker. Since Sideswipe actually took the time to talk to and play with the kid, both twins remained baffled over the kid's attachment to Sunstreaker. With thin patience, the yellow twin let the youngling grab his arm.

"Remember, you stay with Ratchet. The transport's designed to be safe, Bluestreak." Sunstreaker did _not_ want to explain the kid's death to anyone, least of all Prowl.

"I w-wanna help," Bluestreak said.

Sunstreaker grabbed Bluestreak's jaw and made the kid look up at him. "Stay with Ratchet. That _will_ be helping. I don't want to worry about you. Ironhide expects you to be here, too."

"But--"

" _No_. You'll just be in the way and make extra work for us. Stay _here_ , with Ratchet, where I ain't gotta worry about you getting shot at, cut up, or blown apart," Sunstreaker snarled. "They spared you _once_ , and that's it for luck in this world. Stop asking to take stupid risks."

Sunstreaker _almost_ regretted blowing up at the kid. Bluestreak's hurt expression almost made him feel bad. Almost. But if it made Bluestreak listen to him, Sunstreaker would do it again. Bluestreak was only a liability in a fight.

Anyone but Sideswipe was, really.

Bluestreak drooped, and Ratchet pulled the kid into a tight hug. The medic looked grateful. Meanly, Sunstreaker thought he didn't want to explain Bluestreak's death either. A more fair corner of his processor reminded him that Ratchet really couldn't stand others' pain.

"Three can hold the bottleneck at the changer," Sideswipe said, grabbing Sunstreaker's arm. "But thinnin' numbers before they get there..."

"What are you two planning?" Ratchet demanded. He put a hand on Sideswipe's arm.

Sideswipe looked at him, "Me an' Sun are slippin' out at the changer, an' slip off back toward the nearest maintenance tube we pass. We come up behind 'em at the changer. If they go on straight, beautifull. If they jump over..."

"You'd be a nasty surprise," Ratchet said slowly. "But I'd be lying if I said I liked it."

"We'll be back before you know it," Sideswipe assured him.

Ratchet scowled, but instead of fussing at them, he pulled a light blaster from his subspace. Sunstreaker watched as he ran through its systems check. Good enough weapon for a short range fire fight, he decided. Ratchet had proved to be an excellent shot at the target range.

The real question in Sunstreaker's processor was whether Ratchet could pull the trigger on living mech.

Sunstreaker, with Sideswipe echoing his motions, checked their own weapons. After, Sideswipe sat with Bluestreak, talking quietly.

Sunstreaker closed his hand over Ratchet's and listened to his brother try to reassure the kid. That corner of his processor told him he should try to do the same for Ratchet. He didn't know how, though.

After hesitating a moment, he smirked weakly. Ratchet was a medic. He was also a _really_ good shot. "Take out knee and wrist servos. You just need to disable."

"You're going to kill," Ratchet whispered.

"Maybe. Maybe they really are Neutrals, and they'll go on about their business. Point is, _you_ don't need to. They _need_ to stop attacking if they do attack. If you make sure they _can't_ attack, they'll leave." Sunstreaker released Ratchet's hand and walked toward the front. The driver looked up, smiled thinly, then put his optics back on the road.

"So the General's lettin' you go after 'em?" the dark mech asked.

Sunstreaker nodded. "Both of us are goin' out when we stop. You a good shot?"

"Decent. My speciality, though, is electromagnetic field manipulation. An' I know how t' drive," the dark mech snickered like it was funny. Sunstreaker hadn't understood the first part, but since the second _was_ a rare skill, Ironhide's placing him on the transport made sense.

Certainly Sunstreaker didn't know how to drive this contraption.

Instead of a comment that could possibly make him look stupid, Sunstreaker said, "Good. Keep Ratchet and the kid safe. Junk is junk."

"Gotcha. S' what Ironhide said, too."

"Keep in mind the doc recharges in Wheeljack's bed." Wheeljack had a specific reputation. Good natured, happy-go-lucky, and always happy help or share.

Twist Wheeljack's wires, however, and a mech found himself the subject of the saddest cyberhound puppy look _ever_.

"Wow. Thanks for the warnin'."

"Sunstreaker, stop threatening mechs with Wheeljack. He's harmless," Ratchet growled, coming up behind Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker and the driver exchanged looks. Wheeljack was perfectly harmless. As long as he was happy and not working. Sunstreaker said, "The driver's stayin'. Says he's a decent enough shot."

"Name's Trailbreaker. An' Ironhide shoved me aboard 'cause I'm out of the Defense Brigade," the dark mech said.

"Defense Brigade? The experimental division?" Ratchet asked hopefully.

"Yup. And before you ask, I topped off this morning." Trailbreaker grinned at Ratchet, as the mech looked relieved.

Apparently Ratchet knew what the slag that meant. Sunstreaker let himself relax. "Good. You two work out your defense with the guards outside. We'll be in contact. After."

Trailbreaker nodded. Ratchet vented unhappily. Sunstreaker walked back to his brother to wait.

At the level changer, the twins piled out, bickering loudly. Ironhide's intake choked trying to smother his laughter. Chromia, equally amused, lounged against the transport as they argued and kept walking away from each other.

Casually, Ironhide's tall blue mate slipped silently aboard. Big Orange followed him after a silent glare from Ironhide.

The twins stayed noisily obvious until they came along beside the transport. When they were sure the watchers above had slipped back to _their_ main body, they broke for the guardrails.

[ I spotted a tube over here. And look't, it connects back over, ] Sideswipe sent back. His idiot brother tossed a broad grin at him, then swung himself into the hatch.

Sunstreaker glared at everything as he followed after his brother into the claustrophobically narrow tubes. Sideswipe led the way through the tubes, carefully choosing between shafts. At the other end of their crawl, he lifted the hatch slowly and peered through the thin crack. Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe reach through their half sparks. The yellow twin reached back, and their vison layered over each other.

Sideswipe's aft end wasn't nearly as interesting as the collection of mechs bearing the purple Unicron insignia of the rebels. Thirty to two weren't odds that Sunstreaker liked at all. Even _they_ hadn't been able to handle more than six, back in the arena.

They could hear parts of the rebels' talk--about the transport. Most were going to make the jump for close combat. Four would remain here, sniping. Twenty-six to ten odds below, four to two here.

They could handle that.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, blasters ready, waited in the tube until the last three jumpers were about to go. Then Sideswipe threw the hatch and surged out of the maintenance tube with Sunstreaker right behind him. Startled, two jumpers fell, screaming, off their perches. The third actually caught the rail. Everyone else spun around fast at the noise.

Sideswipe latched onto the nearest's chest plate. He spun the shorter mech around and threw him on the raised rifle barrel of the next. With no time to stop, the rifle-toting rebel had already fired. Sparks flew, and a piercing shriek ended fast.

A greying shell fell. Four to two now.

Sunstreaker slammed into the two behind Friendly Fire. Arena experience had taught him to shoot construction builds' thinly protected joints first. Sunstreaker fired at Green Builder's ankles.

Green Builder face-planted as the blown ankle crumpled. Sideswipe blasted Friendly Fire in the chest with his own weapon.

Another shell. Three to two.

Sunstreaker stomped on Green Builder's exposed throat cables. Gagging, Green Builder rolled away and surged up to his knees. He rammed Sunstreaker's legs out from under him.

The fourth mech was a host, of all things. A bunch of little pitspawn dropped out of his chest while he struggled to hoist the surviving jumper back up. One of the symbiotes slammed into Sunstreaker's chest as he rolled over.

Sideswipe fired a well-placed volley at dangling jumper. The host lost his grip, and the remaining jumper fell. The symbiotes swarmed Sideswipe.

Seven to two. Frag.

Large body twisting, Green Builder grabbed Sunstreaker around the middle. Sunstreaker barely managed to subspace his blaster before it could be used against _him_. Quick blaster fire sounded below them, off to one side.

Scrambling for traction, Sunstreaker managed to flip himself over. The little symbiote shrieked obscenities as Sunstreaker's and Builder's weight crashed down on top of him. Sunstreaker snatched at the guardrail above them. Catching it, Sunstreaker used that leverage point to throw their combined weight back and forth.

Green Builder proved as stupid as he looked. He tried sitting up to pull Sunstreaker off the rail. Sunstreaker whipped around, the yimbiote still punching him, and threw himself into the unbalanced construction mech.

Builder tumbled over the guardrail. Shouting, he made a wild grab for Sunstreaker. He caught the symbiote by the leg, instead.

 _That_ caught the host's attention. His weird cry echoed in Sunstreaker's audials. Sunstreaker barely caught the falling symbiote's torso. Builder's weight ripped the leg he held at the hip.

Only the host and his symbiotes now. The construction mech screamed far too long.

The little symbiote's screaming almost made Sunstreaker throw him after Builder. Flipping the symbiote over to hold the remaining leg, he snarled, "Stop kicking! You _want_ me to drop you?"

"You will anyway, ya grimy tailpipe!" the symbiote snarled.

"No, I ain't! Stop kicking! You're gonna bleed out!"

Sunstreaker looked back, over Sideswipe buried under the pile of symbiotes, to meet the host's blank visor. All the symbiotes stopped struggling with a frightening suddenness. Sunstreaker found the torn, pumping energon line on the one he held and pinched it shut. The symbiote whimpered.

Sunstreaker looked back at the host. "You're gonna let me and him go, you hear me? And I'll give _this_ back to you. I'll send him back on the lift. There's too many of your little monsters for the two of us, but we already cleaned out your company. And the shots stopped."

"Release Frenzy."

"I'll send him back on the lift. They got a real medic down there. I'll even make sure that medic clamps that leg's line off." Sunstreaker matched the host's hard look for a long time. He might regret this deal, later. But he felt some kinship with the group. They were parts of a whole, a little like he and Sideswipe.

His processor began to ache. Audials buzzing, Sunstreaker shook his head. Confusingly, the ache faded moments later. Sunstreaker hadn't wanted to be alone and bleeding out from his spark. The host might not have that death hanging over him, but the pain would be cruel. The host spoke slowly, his voice no less weird, "Your word?"

"It's good. Me and the red guy go down with him. You'll get your little buddy back, alive and not bleedin' out."

"Agreed." The host glanced at his little monsters and, ignoring the protests of the symbiotes, pulled them off Sideswipe.

Venting hard, a dented Sideswipe scrambled to his pedes. The host kept the symbiotes back while Sideswipe limped to Sunstreaker,paranoidly glancing back. The yellow twin lowered the illusory wall between their halves and relief reflected back.

"Turn me up," the symbiote whined.

"I'll lose my grip on your hose. Shut up. And be _still_ ," Sunstreaker hissed.

The pair of flight capable symbiotes crouched on the guardrail. Sunstreaker eyed them and held the one-legged symbiote closer. The nearer of the fliers squawked. Sideswipe grabbed Sunstreaker around the waist, and kicked on his new jetpack.

Sunstreaker really did not like heights.

His twin got them across the jump and landed much more smoothly than Sunstreaker had expected. Ironhide's mechs were cleaning up the carnage. Three loyalists, including Big Orange, hadn't made it. Only five of the rebels had made it. Sunstreaker held the damaged symbiote tightly and matched glares with Ironhide over the wiggling body. "Ratchet looks at him, then we use the lift. He comes back on the lift."

"I got mobbed by little guys, sir. Their host was willin' to cut a deal for his survival and mine," Sideswipe muttered.

Ratchet zeroed in on the little mech as the most damaged survivor. Whatever protest Ironhide made, Ratchet ignored. The loyalists hadn't done badly. The medic worked quickly, shutting off the sensor channels and clamping the end of the torn hose. "What the frag did you _do_ to him?"

"He was trying to beat my face in when I managed to flip a big green mech over the rail. Big guy grabbed him. He's just lucky I caught his body and his hip gave before anything else," Sunstreaker hissed.

Sunstreaker realized the symbiote was glaring at him, denta bared. Ignoring the look, he watched Ratchet finish. Ironhide had Sideswipe start helping the others clean up. Ratchet held his hands out for the symbiote once he finished, but Sunstreaker shook his head. Tiredly, he turned the tiny mech over and held him upright. "You hit me, I will drop you. We clear?"

"Fragger," the symbiote hissed.

"Stay quiet. And still. I _will_ send you back up," Sunstreaker growled, stalking toward the transport.

"Why?"

The soft question made Sunstreaker pause. He looked down while the little mech's expression faded from a terrible glare to confusion. Sunstreaker could do it. The wild, dark side of him knew how to be cruel. He had thrown the green mech to his death, knowing he would hear the mech's screams all the way down. And happy to hear them--the mechbhad been trying to kill him. But leaving someone with their spark wrenched open, leeching into the void? Sunstreaker couldn't do that. Not intentionally. He would definitely regret this later.

"Shut up. I don't think all of them like our deal," Sunstreaker muttered. To his surprise, Ratchet patted the symbiote's side, meeting that confused gaze with a weak smile. Ratchet said nothing as he boarded the transport with the driver, Trailbreaker. Sideswipe followed them, helping a wounded Chromia. The five surviving rebels were bound and left on the roadway. The host looked on from above.

Sunstreaker waited until the transport lurched forward. He rode the lift down with one hand pressed to the transport for balance. Sunstreaker stepped aside to let the transport roll off.

Ironhide looked back at him, frowning. "Whaddya think yer doin'?"

"Makin' sure things go how I mean them to go," Sunstreaker said. "I'll come back up."

"Sunstreaker," Ironhide rumbled.

"Stow it. I'll catch up. You can tell on me. Have him put me on cleaning detail for a month."

Ironhide vented. Then he unsubspaced his rifle and joined Sunstreaker on the lift. "Fine. Ah'm goin' with ya."

The symbiote growled. Sunstreaker swatted his remaining leg. "Shut it off. I'm giving you back to your host."

Ironhide shook his head, clearly bewildered, and operated the lift. When the doors, the fliers, now on the lower level's guardrail, greeted them with raucous calls and flapping wings. The host, still on the higher road, held one of his dead companions' blasters. The five rebels sat, still bound where they had been. Snarling. Ironhide leveled his rifle casually. Sunstreaker stepped forward, senses itching with distrust.

Why had he saved the little mech? He wasn't Spinout anymore. This was a bad idea.

Giving the fliers and the symbiote he held his full attention, Sunstreaker walked forward. Just outside the lift, Sunstreaker bent to the injured symbiote on the roadway.

Two of the rebels burst into motion. Both charging at Sunstreaker, the larger mech roared. Ironhide cursed behind him, no doubt swinging his rifle down from the host. Sunstreaker dropped the symbiote the last couple of feet and threw himself to the side. His roll caught the shorter mech's legs. He crashed across Sunstreaker's legs.

Sunstreaker heard a shot fire, but he twisted around, furious now, and got his arm around the short mech's neck. Holding the headlock, Sunstreaker matched the short mech's wild flailing until Sunstreaker managed to get a knee in the mech's back.

Denta grinding, rage and fear fueling him, Sunstreaker _pulled_ while the mech clawed frantically at his arm. Something cracked. The short mech tried to scream; it came out as a gurgle. Finally, the throat structure failed, and the mech's head snapped backward, nearly throwing Sunstreaker.

Blue energon spurted onto the roadway and coated Sunstreaker's already filthy hands. Snarling, he turned his attention to the others. The little symbiote stared at him, optics wide. Ironhide pointed his rifle at the three bound rebels, the larger attacker lay at his pedes, a smoking hole in his back.

Sunstreaker shuddered, pulling his processor back from the edge with all the willpower he could muster. He wasn't Spinout. He never had been. With a casualness he didn't feel, Sunstreaker pokes the dying mech's head. It rolled on the few bits of metal and cable still attached. Energon still pumped out. The mech couldn't be repaired now. Not and have _himself_ remain intact.

The spark hadn't guttered yet, though.

Sunstreaker rolled the body over, still acting casual, and sat up on his knees. Spark chambers had the heaviest armor. He needed leverage. Sunstreaker felt the weight of their optics as he pulled out one of the hand blades he and Sideswipe both kept on themselves.

The knives had been the best quality Sideswipe could find on the black market. Worth every credit he had paid, the blade stabbed through the mech's chest and crunched into the spark casing. Sunstreaker's second strike broke through.

Little lightning arced up the blade, stinging Sunstreaker painfully before the light died away. Turning a flat, ugly look on the remaining rebels, Sunstreaker got to his pedes. He glanced up at the host, still as a statue on the high road. The dark blue mech nodded slowly, and the angle of his rifle shifted ever so slightly down. Sunstreaker stalked to the lift, stepping over the symbiote.

The fliers jumped down to their injured friend only after Sunstreaker crossed the threshold. Ironhide hit the lift's switch, while Sunstreaker clean his blade and inspected it for damage. He put it back in its slot beneath his plating and subspaced the cloth.

The injured symbiote's stare felt like a real weight until the doors closed.

"Y've got a few bolts loose in tha' 'ead a yers, don'cha?" Ironhide vented after a long silence. "Ya realize we both coulda been killed."

"You didn't have to come," Sunstreaker muttered as the lift stopped.

"Yeah. An' then Bluestreak starts wailin' an' Prowl rips out m' primary fuel pump. Ah don' think so," Ironhide snorted. The door opened, and the transport sat calmly where they had left it. Ironhide laughed at Sunstreaker's glare. "Don' gimme that. Ah'm bein' 'eld responsible for both a ya. C'mon. Let's get movin'."

After they got off the lift, Sunstreaker climbed aboard the transport. Ratchet latched onto him. The youngling had wrapped himself around Sideswipe. His brother held Bluestreak tightly when the kid would have run for Ironhide and Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker groaned. He could hear Bluestreak whining. Ratchet growled at him. But his hands moved so lightly, Sunstreaker barely felt them. Sunstreaker shivered. He actually thought he would prefer Ratchet's touch to hurt.

"You didn't have this much energon on you when you went down. The frag happened? I know Soundwave didn't shoot you if you brought the mini-demon back."

"Y'know tha' 'ost?" Ironhide asked, giving Ratchet a long look.

"I'm sure he's not the only one any of us know, Ironhide. But, yes, I know Soundwave," Ratchet growled. "Sunstreaker, what happened?"

"Some of the rebels got loose. Ironhide shot one. I got the other," Sunstreaker said carefully.

Glancing between the mechs, and obviously noting the rifle Ironhide still carried and Sunstreaker's empty, stained hands. Ratchet stared at Sunstreaker.

"Sunstreaker's very skilled, 'and t' 'and," Ironhide murmured. Then the old mech stalked over to the transport.

"What did you do?" Ratchet whispered.

Sunstreaker looked down at Ratchet, although certainly outweighed him. Sunstreaker loomed over the medic, and felt his expression curl into a dark, angry glare. "I pinned the mech down and ripped his head off. Then I stabbed his spark soit guttered out. You have enough details now?"

Ratchet closed his optics. When he opened them, he touched Sunstreaker's plating gently. "Thank you. For coming back."

Sunstreaker shifted uneasily and looked away. "We gotta go."

"Yes. Come on the transport." Ratchet turned and let Sunstreaker walk himself up the ramp. Sideswipe let Bluestreak go, and the youngling ran over. Sunstreaker braced himself for the kid's hug, snarled anyway, and forced himself to hug back.

Sunstreaker dreaded having to explain all this to Prowl.

"I'm _fine_ ," he growled at Bluestreak. "Go help Chromia, please? I'm sure he needs you more than I do."

"Nope," Chromia snickered lightly. "I think I'm enjoying the show."

Sunstreaker's glare did not impress Chromia. He hadn't expected Ironhide's mate to be, really. After a moment, the tall blue mech said, "Be still. Bluestreak just wants some reassurance."

"C'mon, Chromia. He's yours, ain't he?"

"H-he g-g-gave m-m-me a hug already," Bluestreak mumbled into Sunstreaker's chest plate.

Groaning, Sunstreaker waited until Bluestreak let go. It set off cackling from everyone else. He really did not understand Bluestreak's attachment.

A tense quiet settled over the convoy, despite the momentary levity. It followed them until they reached the new base. Bluestreak fled the transport as soon as it stopped, practically flinging himself on Prowl at the bottom of the transport's ramp. The elder Praxian held him tightly, but his optics slid up to Sunstreaker. Prowl clearly noted the dried navy blue flecks against Sunstreaker's native bright gold and the dents from the falls and tackles.

"Wheeljack's upgrades held out," Sunstreaker commented easily. And, brushing at the flecks to ignore the cringing from deep in his processor, he continued, "I know you asked me to put that ugly logo on me. Before you left. Fine. But I'm not taking orders from anyone else. You got me? You make that extra clear to them."

"I will, Sunstreaker. You will not be numbered among the army," Prowl agreed softly. A sadness came and went in his expression. Sunstreaker shifted his weight uneasily. After a pause, Prowl continued, "Will you play Quadrant with me after Ratchet releases you?"

"Let me help Sideswipe get our stuff to our new room." They wouldn't come off. He'd be scrubbing forever to get the blue energon off.

"You have separate quarters, Sunstreaker, as you asked for. I will comm you the map..."


End file.
